


Keeping Your Promise

by MJRen



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Blow Job, Canon Divergence, Choking, Cum Eating, Dirty Talk, Dom!Kylo Ren, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Force Choke, Heavily inspired by Kassanovella's "Fix Your Attitude", Hurt/Comfort, If chapter eleven doesn't kill you then the angst will, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Roommate Challenge, Medical Kink, Medical Trauma, Okay maybe a little bit of non-con, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Proper utilization of Kylo's scar post-TFA unlike piss-boy directors, Pussy Torture, Rape, Reader-Insert, Sexual Violence, Size Kink, Smut, Torture, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, reader is strong as hell, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 159,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJRen/pseuds/MJRen
Summary: You're a new graduate going into the healthcare field. Your assignment gets changed last minute to the elite members of the First Order, and it turns out Kylo Ren hand picked you to be his assigned care provider. Now in the throes of the professional world, you struggle to find your place in your position. What will happen to your career when things go awry one night on the Finalizer? Will you keep your position? Will you keep your head? And why oh why is Kylo Ren at the center of every new crisis in your life?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 908
Kudos: 1226





	1. Congratulations

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fix Your Attitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961706) by [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/pseuds/kassanovella). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're late to your graduation from Starkiller Academy and Kylo Ren is doubting your allegiance to the First Order.

You were woken by the sound of your phone ringing, waking you from a dead sleep. You looked to see who was popped up on the screen to realize it was your best friend, Mason. You yawned and rubbed your eyes before picking it up and centering your face on the screen. You accepted the call and waited for his face to enter your vision.

“Hey, why are you calling me so early?” You stretched while saying this, your eyes closed.

Mason said your name in the form of a question, “Where are you? We’re about to take our seats for graduation.”

Your muscles froze and a shock of white electricity moved through them, halting all blood flow. How had you forgotten graduation? _How had you forgotten to wake up for your own graduation?_

You could only offer your response in the form of gasping and cursing, flinging your phone to the side, not caring where Mason landed within your bedroom. You zoomed around, pulling on every necessary article of clothing and then grabbing a hair tie, and stumbling into the nearest shoes you could find. Once they were on your feet you began to realize that they were too comfy to be shoes intended for a momentous occasion, such as graduating from the academy of health sciences. You looked down, only to find your feet planted in white tennis shoes. _They will have to do_ , you thought to yourself as you shot a glance at the clock on your wall.

A nervous trill rang through you. “Hey, Mason, make sure they leave my seat open. I won’t be able to make it in time to sit with everyone,” you aimlessly shouted, hoping he heard your probably muffled voice on his end.

“I will. Gotta go, we are walking in and Professor Lima is shooting laser eyes at my phone as we speak. _Get here now!_ ” Mason hung up just before you grunted through pulling your dress on.

You stopped whirling around for one second, going through a small mental checklist. _Shoes, hair tie, dress, underwear, bra, cap and gown –_ fuck – _cap and gown_! You tore your closet open and grabbed the zipped-up bag containing your required attire, hoping to God that you now had everything you needed as you whizzed through the halls and out into the cold, biting air. _Why did I choose to go to the academy on Starkiller?_ You thought as your cheeks were burned with the frozen wind as you sprinted to Darth Hall.

As your legs brought you closer and closer to the building – now grateful that your late wake-up call prompted you to wear activity abiding shoes – your heart dropped and your lungs froze as you saw not a single soul, aside from a few faceless stormtroopers, in the surrounding patio.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” you whispered to yourself as you sped up to the entrance where the stormtroopers stood, tearing your arms into the gown and shoving the cap on your head, leaving the bag to fly in the wind. You reached towards the door and were immediately halted.

“Name and rationale,” said the stormtrooper on the left.

Anxious fury rose in you as you tried to push past their barricading blasters. You were stopped again, your eyes shutting in nervous impatience, “I could ask you the same thing. Do you even have names?” You glared through his mask, not sure if your anger was being directed into his eyes or his forehead.

All of a sudden both of the troopers’ stances shifted, their shoulders falling back, their weapons returning to resting position. You took this as a go ahead and smirked into their masks. You glared at them as your hands met the door, only to crash into it on your way past. _What the?_

You tried again, double checking if it was a pull door instead. It would not budge. You took a second to focus your attention on the reflection in the glass, seeing your disheveled appearance, and then seeing what had shifted the trooper’s position. Behind you, growing ever closer, was Kylo Ren, commander of the First Order, and two accompanying stormtroopers on either side. Your breath caught in your throat and your tongue turned to dust as your ears tuned themselves to the sound of his heavy boots, falling in a quick and regular tempo, coming closer towards you with every unbearably loud _thump_.

Your brain tried to communicate with your muscles, but it was having a difficult time deciding between turning around or running as fast as it could in the hopes of avoiding being on the end of one of Commander Ren’s infamous temper tantrums. Alas, you stood there, frozen in absolute terror, awaiting to be reprimanded.

The stomping of his boots crescendoed and then came to a piercing, silent halt. “Why are you not seated with the rest of the graduates?” His mechanical voice sent chills down your spine and your legs began to quiver. The visor of his helmet met your eyes in the glass reflection, prompting you to turn around.

Your cheeks may have been on fire from the windburn, but that was not all that accounted for the growing redness sprawling over them and your neck. No, you had grown hot from embarrassment and fear, and your face was betraying your emotions, leaving them open and ready for the world to see, for Kylo Ren to see. You spun around and clamped your hands together behind your back, eyes falling to the ground under the glare emanating through his visor and into your skull.

Your mouth had been replaced with cotton balls, limiting your already stunted vocabulary. “Sir – commander – I – I’m so sorry. I was late and I had to –” you spat out, sounding more pathetic as the words went on, graciously accepting his interruption.

“Late? For your own graduation? How can the First Order rely on you to show up for them when you cannot even show up on time for your own life events?” His voice shot daggers into your ears, making your eyes vibrate with overstimulation.

You closed your eyes and swallowed against your throat, “Commander Ren, I know, and again, I am so –” you mumbled to your feet.

“Look at me when I am talking to you,” he ordered, his fingers shifting slightly as you felt your chin rising, not from your own will, but from the Force.

Once your face was completely visible to him, the Force wafted gently down to your neck, slightly constricting it. Your eyes, out of fear, reluctantly met his visor once more. You waited a second or two and began your explanation again, this time with his hidden eyes baring right back into yours, “I am so sorry, Commander. I never meant for this to happen and I promise I will never be late to a shift for the First Order and –,” he tightened the grip around your throat.

His helmet shifted as to scan over your figure. Your face was screaming red, encouraging sweat at the nape of your neck. Your hands, still tight behind your back, grew slippery and your eyes shifted to the stormtroopers at his sides, who both had turned their backs to survey the area. He must have noticed your eyes had left his helmet, as once his gaze returned to your face, he slammed your body into the door behind you, sending vibrations into the cold metal that your rising temperature welcomed.

“You are certainly correct,” he began, placing his gloved hand over your throat, depressing your arteries, “because if you are, I will personally see to it that you are never entrusted with any position in the First Order, _ever_.” He took one more glance at your face, now white as his long fingers had been blocking any circulation towards your head, and removed his hand from your neck and dissipated the Force from your windpipe.

You gasped for air and placed your own hands around your throat, ensuring it was still there. You coughed and stumbled out of his way and waited for him to pass through the doors. But, to your horrified realization, he stood there, waiting, staring at you, once again, through that soulless visor. Your eyes did not break his gaze this time, as you waited, somewhat irritated, for him to explain why he had not left you to wallow in self-hatred yet.

“Given your current track record, I would not want you getting lost on your way to your seat,” he turned and gestured the stormtrooper on his right to grasp your shoulder, “Escort her to her seat. Once she has been seated, meet me on stage.” Kylo Ren began walking through the doors, which were now being held open by the two stormtroopers who initiated this whole interaction.

_On stage?_ “Sir,” you spat out unthinkingly, “why are you going to be on stage?” Your ears turned red, once again, and your throat was met with a thick feeling of regret.

He did not respond and kept walking towards his destination. Your eyes followed the flowing of his capes and robes behind him, your ears listening to the disappearing drumming of his steps. You let go of the breath you had not realized you’d been holding and looked to the stormtrooper instructed to babysit you. You sneered at the faceless mask and he pushed you forward, leading you through the halls of the center.

Right before you met the doors that led directly into the pool of graduates, you dug your heels into the tiled floor, creating a loud _screech_. You did not intend on being escorted to your seat in front of thousands of people.

“Alright, I’m good to go, thank you, go find your master,” you snarked, smirking and pulling away from his grasp.

He held you firm in his grip, and you whipped your head up to meet his mask, “Commander Ren left clear instructions – I am to escort you to your seat. We are not yet at your seat. Come on,” he pushed the door open and pushed your shoulder through it, into the wide space, filled with peering, curious, and judging eyes.

It took all of your equilibrium not to fall face first into the floor, even though you wished you could sink down into it under the weight of the glares that were on you. You clenched your jaw and spread your mouth into a wide, closed smile, looking at the crowd but seeing nothing. Your row was in the dead middle of the auditorium, only adding to the waves of shame ripping through your veins. The stormtrooper kept his hand clasped on your shoulder, surely wrinkling the cheap gown underneath it, until he met your row. He held out his hand and gestured for you to proceed to your seat, which, thankfully, was left open. _Thanks, Mason_ , you thought. You shot a glare back at your babysitter and left him with a bitter smile that never touched your eyes.

“Are you sure I can make it all the way to my seat without you?” Your voice was cold and whispered.

“I don’t know, would you like me to lead you?” He somehow conveyed his annoyance with you through the lifeless white mask.

The stormtrooper’s snark only furthered your attitude and you exhaled sharply and spun on your heel, eyes catching the enormous black frame of your Commander, standing to General Hux’s right, sending visual lasers into your skull, while you turned. You stumbled and caught the knee of the poor girl who was in your line of clumsiness. Your eyes screamed a silent apology into hers and you finally, _finally_ , made it to your seat, eyes glued to the floor while the stares on you cleared away.

Once you felt the weight of the onlookers off of your shoulders, you pulled your head up and scanned the crowd, finding Mason with a frantic look on his face.

He mouthed _What the hell was that?_ In an exaggerated manner.

Your face bloomed with red again and you rolled your eyes and shrugged your shoulders, _I’ll tell you later_ , you mouthed back.

Mason reluctantly turned his attention back to General Hux, who had been speaking through this entire socially scarring ordeal, and you followed in his actions. Your eyes, though, fell on the giant black helmet resting on Kylo Ren’s mesmerizingly wide shoulders. No wonder he incited so much fear, his presence emanated power and dominance everywhere he went, it practically wafted off of him in tangible waves. Your eyes drifted towards his hands, finding them clenching in and out of tight fists.

Hux had been speaking for a while, your ears not processing his words and your eyes focusing on the way Kylo Ren’s robes hung from him, looking windswept even when he was standing in place. After consuming his presence in every sensory way possible, you decided to tune into what Hux was going on about, trying to keep your attention anywhere but on Kylo Ren.

“…as you are graduating from the esteemed Starkiller Academy, you are now invaluable assets to the First Order, which you have dedicated years of your life to serve. I can say on behalf of myself, Commander Ren, Captain Phasma, and the entire First Order, that we are looking forward to putting your skills to use for the betterment and advancement of the First Order,” Hux went on, seeming to say the same things over and over again. Your briefly thought how plastered you could get if you’d taken a drink after every time he’d said the words “First Order”.

After a few more speeches from generals you did not know, it was time to line up and accept your degree. You stood and followed the slow-moving line towards the stage. Mason tried several attempts to get your attention, but you evaded his flailing arms and hectic whispering, trying to save the remaining ounce of dignity you had left. Instead, you studied the dirt marks on your ill-chosen shoes, inwardly scorning yourself for not remembering to wake up early this morning. At least your family wasn’t here to witness your gargantuan embarrassment – no, that would just be the hundreds of _other_ families who got to see you personally escorted to your own graduation. No big deal.

You were losing distance from the stage, which meant, in turn, you were growing closer towards Kylo Ren. You were expected to shake his hand – the hand that had nearly choked you to unconsciousness less than two hours ago. The hair on your arms stood stick-straight at the thought. You remembered his numerous pauses and long, drawn-out glances and your spine glittered with electricity. It was fear mixed in with something more, something like confusion or excitement. Somehow, you had not even graduated and had already pissed off one of the heads of the First Order, one of the men who had the power to send you off to Jakku if he felt the desire.

Your eyes had been fogged in your reverie and you were shaken back to reality only after hearing your name called and echoed out into the auditorium. You jumped forward, your gaze nailed to your shoes, leading you up the stairs of the stage. You looked up when your line of sight was met with the pale hand of General Hux, his eyes glazed over in boredom and aggravation, no doubt due to your intruding entrance and interruption of his speech. You gave him an impish smile and a weak handshake, feeling guilty for the sweat yours had been accumulating on your way to the podium. You grabbed your degree from Captain Phasma, whose eyes were hidden behind her chrome helmet. You shook her armored hand and seethed from the pain it rang through your arm, eyes popping out of your skull while you smiled into her visor.

Your heart began to race as you knew the next hand you had to shake. Your eyes fell, once again, averted in shame and fear. And, once again, you felt that same foreign pressure, forcing your chin up and your eyes into the black hole of Kylo Ren’s Helmet. Your body froze, ice filtered through your veins, your chin was trembling under his invasive stare, your knees began to quake and your hearing was muffled by the pounding of your pulse in your ears. You reached out your hand and tried to only spend a fraction of time in physical contact with his gloved digits, but, to your horrid surprise, he held your hand there. One second, two seconds, three. Your heart rate slowed and your vision dizzied, tunneling on him, only able to clearly make out the glint of light reflecting from his visor.

Your brain finally connected with your mouth, “Uh – th-thank you, Commander Ren,” you stuttered out in your half-conscious state. You gently tried once more to retract your hand from his, only to find he still wouldn’t return it to you.

“Congratulations,” he turned your name over in his mouth, letting each syllable fall off of his tongue one at a time, his emotion hidden behind his mask, “I look forward to keeping you to the promise you made earlier,” His voice was just a whisper. He finally let go of your hand, and it fell from his, pale from the firm grip he’d had around it.

Your chin fell once you scurried past him, only noticing the Force had been lifted after briefly reflecting on the moment on your way back to your row. You struggled not to trip as you expended all of your energy trying to reclaim the equilibrium he had stollen from you in his moment of congratulations. After a few minutes of sitting, your ears tuning out the meaningless names that Professor Lima was reading off, you began to feel normal again. You realized you had been in a state of fight or flight all morning and you had only now taken a moment to catch your breath, which had been stolen by Kylo Ren multiple times since you’d woken up.

The names lulled on, occasionally you would glance up and briefly search Kylo Ren’s mask for any sign of humanity. But, eventually, the ceremony commenced, and the students and families filed out of the auditorium, leaving you behind to wait for Mason. So you sat there, watching as happy graduates showed off their personalized caps and took pictures with their families, distantly you were relieved and saddened that yours had decided not to come. Your eyes studied your twiddling thumbs in your lap until a hand met your shoulder and you smiled.

Mason hugged you tight, his strong arms, enrobing you into him. You patted him on the back and exited the hug with a face-splitting smile.

“We are _graduates!_ ” You squealed and did a happy dance while holding his hands in yours.

He laughed and threw his head back, “ _Finally!_ Maybe now Professor Lima won’t haunt my dreams every night,” he said as he dramatically looked into the distance.

You shared a sly face with him, “Yeah, but probably not.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey! What the _hell_? Why were you dragged to your seat by a stormtrooper? _How could you forget graduation_?” His words became higher pitched as he kept talking.

Your eyes fell as you tried to find a way to explain what had happened this morning. You honestly didn’t know yourself, so how could you explain to him what had gone on? You gave him your best _Oh me? I forget everything_ look, “I guess that’s what I get for not setting fourteen alarms like you, ha.”

You were trying your hardest to act normal, and it seemed to be working, as Mason began to lead you towards the exit, going on and on about the people he had to sit around during the ceremony. He mentioned how he’d had to fight the girl next to your seat not to take it. You both laughed as you filed out through the doors you were so _courteously_ escorted through this morning, your mind replaying the encounter with Kylo Ren over and over again, fogging the reality around you.

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been acting weird all morning,” Mason pointed out in his token bluntness, taking you out of your head.

You took a second to focus on the world around you; you were still surrounded by people, but they were more spread out. The wind was biting at your cheeks again, making your teeth chatter. You looked up into his kind grey eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’m just – I feel really nostalgic is all. It’s our last day together here,” you found it shocking how easily it was to lie to your best friend.

Mason put a hand on your arm, “Hey, but it’s not our last day together. C’mon, let’s go celebrate,” he offered you the smile you’d been gifted for the last four years, a smile you once thought you were in love with, but later settled for friendship.

He put his shoulder around you and you huddled into his friendly embrace, trying anything to gather as much warmth around you as possible. You both gathered with a group of your peers and spent the night drinking and reminiscing. Although, you were drinking to forget the all too confusing and alarming interaction you’d had with Kylo Ren this morning, hoping it would be the last, but also having a sneaking suspicion that it was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at every really writing true fan fiction. I'm new to this. I'm also a virgin trying to write smut, so that should be interesting...


	2. Your Whole Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since graduation, but Kylo Ren isn't finished with you just yet.

It had been two weeks since graduation and a lot of things had happened since. You began your new job as a triage nurse at the stormtrooper hub on Starkiller. You moved from your dorm room into your new assigned living quarters, which consisted of a one room apartment with a tiny bathroom and a pitiful kitchen. You were no longer just an aspiring student, you were now a member of the elite First Order, something you had been striving for since you were a child. Everything seemed to be coming together, and you felt you deserved the break from craziness after the mishap at graduation, which, even though you’d like to deny it, you still turned over in your head every night before you fall asleep.

You ensured, whether out of spite or fear, you had clocks visible in every room of your quarters. You wanted to take every precaution you possibly could in order to eliminate any chance of another interaction _like that_ with Kylo Ren. Just remembering the vibrations his voice sent off through his mask poured shivers and anxiety through you. Every bone in your body rejected the idea of ever being that close to him ever again, feeling like they’d disintegrate under the pressure he seemed to envelop them in.

You shook your head out of its reverie and threw your hair up in a quick ponytail. You straightened your scrubs out and made sure you had your badge on your collar before heading out of your door. You turned around to lock your door with your keycard and checked the watch on your wrist while doing so.

_Right on time_. You smiled at your private defiance of your Commander and skipped through the hallways to the elevators. You never had to worry about having any other fellow base members join you in your ride, your shift started before the sun came up, so you automatically had to wake up at least two hours before the normal base workers, leaving you with a peaceful journey to work. Except today.

As you pressed the button for the first floor and the doors began to close, your line of vision was slammed with a black storm. It seemed as if a tornado had entered the elevator, and after you realized the truth, you wished it had.

Your heart stilled as your eyes fell down Kylo Ren’s massive frame, composed of wide shoulders, strong arms, and thick, muscular legs. You assumed on the legs given they were mostly hidden by his robes. Air had evaporated from your surroundings, his presence sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Your eyes, instinctively, fell to the floor, not wanting any interaction with him that meant more than simply sharing an elevator. Out of the corner of your eye, you could feel him staring into you, feel his penetrating gaze sweeping over your figure. Hot, red flames licked at your neck and cheeks, even your upper arms. You saw a slight twitch of his hand and the elevator came to a screeching halt.

Your ears rang, adrenaline kicking in as your heart began to pound in your chest, surely audible at this point. You pressed your back against the side wall and brought your gaze up to his. He was studying you. You tried to seem as intimidating as possible, but the heat in your face was hindering your performance. Your breath caught and you heard the slightest fragment of a chuckle emanate through his mask.

He took a step forward and closed the space between you. You could feel the heat rolling off of his body, see the rise and fall of his chest. He tilted his head and reached forward, plucking your badge reel off of your collar. For the second time, he rolled your name off of his tongue like it was dripping honey. His modified voice making it seem more ominous than, you hoped, he’d intended. He let your badge fly back into place and his hand drifted up to your neck, where he held it there for a moment, head lifting to see your reaction to this – which, to your surprise, you’d been like a statue this whole time – and pressed down only slightly.

Your eyes shifted over his helmet, searching to sense any sign of life behind that mask. Your mouth opened, stupidly. “Good morning, Commander,” your voice was huskier than usually due to his pressure on your windpipe, “you’d be happy to know I’ve invested in numerous clocks to keep my promise t--,” you were stopped by his hand shifting up from your neck and resting on your chin, thumb settling on your lower lip.

“You never do know when to stop running that mouth, do you?” His neck craned so his helmet was whispering chills against your ear. “No, you’ve always got something to say, don’t you?”

You were frozen in shock, not truly believing this was happening. When you didn’t respond, he reclaimed your throat and pressed in, hard.

“The one time I expect you to answer me, and you’ve suddenly lost all ability to speak,” His breath was thick and heavy through his mask.

“Commander, sir, I don’t know what you want from me,” you explained through choked words.

He leaned back, visor finding your gaze again, hand relieving some of its pressure. He lowered his voice and leaned in so your nose was skimming his helmet, “I want you to respect your commander, I want you to show me what you would do for the First Order.”

You could hear his breath underneath the mask. You were so confused. _What I would do for the First Order?_ “I’ve dedicated my entire life, my entire education, my entire career to the First Order!” You let out a short laugh, tinged with disbelief, “What more can I possibly give that would prove my allegiance to you?” You were angry, now, no longer intimidated by his frantic outbursts.

He didn’t press into your windpipe further, but he plunged his hips into your unsuspecting torso, revealing his aching desire through his thick robes and armor. Your eyes popped out of your skull and your breath hitched. _This cannot be happening this cannot be happening_ , you kept thinking to yourself. He saw your reaction and craned his neck into the gap between your shoulder and head once more.

“I want you to give your whole self, your whole being, to the First Order,” his voice was a husky whisper through the modulator.

You let out a nervous laugh and tried to escape his hold on you, to no avail, of course. “Okay, _Commander_ ,” you rolled your eyes and pushed your hands into his shoulders, “I need to get to work, and you need to get the hell away from me.”

He held you there for a few more seconds, no doubt considering the value of your life after you’d disrespected and rejected him. He took his hand from your neck and backed away from you. The elevator still had not returned back to motion and you began to prickle with irritation – you were seriously about to be late. You checked your watch, finding you were already five minutes behind schedule.

“God! Are you doing this on purpose? I’m trying to serve the _First Order_ the best I can and you are stopping me from doing that!” You ran your hands over your hair and gasped, realization flooding through you. Your eyes shot daggers through his mask.

“You _are_ doing this on purpose! Let me go _now!_ I swear to God I will –,” he didn’t let you speak any further. He had pushed you both up against the wall, now, and he slipped his thumb into your mouth.

The taste of warm, dry leather flooded your taste buds, and the feeling of his warmth covered your whole body. His erection was still palpable through his robes, and your body did something you had been staving off for weeks, now. You clenched. Excitement ran through your veins, and you met his visor with wild, angry eyes.

You were helpless in his presence, body completely given to his will, even if you didn’t want to admit it. Your eyes shut and your head leaned back against the wall. Your lips closed over his thumb and you began sucking at black leather in your mouth. You lifted your hands to encase his wrist, his hand dwarfing yours, and you began moving your head back and forth over his thumb, your eyes flooding back open to meet his gaze, no doubt shrouded in wanton desire.

“There you go,” his voice was thick, “that mouth just needed something to fill it, didn’t it?” He purred through his mask.

You bobbed your head in agreement, gaze never leaving his. You took one of your hands and you reached up towards the region underneath his helmet and shoulders, searching for any sign of human flesh, but he stopped you, his free hand bruising your wrist in his firm grip.

He chuckled, “Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” he said, lowering your hand and placing it over the outline of his growing need through his robes, “I decide when you get to touch me.”

Your mouth was stilled over his thumb, and your fingers were frozen in place over his bulge, not knowing what to do. He took his free hand and cupped your face in it. You denied your head’s want to fall back and nuzzle into it. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, and stalled there, staring into your shocked and lusting eyes. It felt like hours before he removed all parts of himself from you; his hand from your cheek, his thumb from your mouth, and your hand from his cock. To your annoyed and disappointed surprise, when his touch left you, your heart sank into the ocean.

He had returned the elevator to normal speed and was still staring into you, watching your every move, examining you.

Your eyes fell to his glove, glistening from your saliva, and you clenched, letting your knowing eyes fly back up to his tentative gaze. You licked your upper teeth, letting him see the glint of your tongue wash over parted lips.

You watched as his breath caught and as he slowly exhaled. You wished with everything in you that you could see his face under that mask, see the power you had over him, over _Kylo Ren_. But, alas, the elevator reached the first floor.

He walked out before you, body resuming that typical terrifying posture as if to pretend nothing had gone on in the elevator he’d just exited. You followed after him, meeting the eyes of a maintenance worker who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes bulged at you in disbelief. You offered him a shrug and a smile, as if to say _I know, he’s fucking weird_.

Once out in the hallways, you sped through them with grace, on a mission to minimize the lecture you’d surely get once showing up to shift fifteen minutes late.

_That bastard_. He must hate you in some way to make you look this incompetent to your superiors.

When you met the doors to the med bay, you took a deep breath and readied yourself for the scornful look from the charge nurse. Your eyes were full of sorrow and embarrassment. You had no reasonable explanation as to why you were late – you couldn’t just go out and say _yeah, Kylo Ren held me hostage in an elevator and I nearly blew him right then and there, sorry._ So, you settled with:

“Hey, I’m so sorry. The elevator stalled on my way down,” you exaggerated your words to the point of reasonable shock, maybe not completely fooling your co-workers with your half-truth.

The nurse manager looked you up and down while on the phone, eyes full of some unreadable emotion. “Yeah, she just got here,” she said into the phone.

_Oh God, what now?_ You scurried over to the nurses’ station and waited for her to hang up the call. Your eyes searched hers nervously and she held you there for a moment, letting you fester in your growing shame as she put the phone down.

“That was General Hux. He requests your services be utilized on the less expendable members of the First Order,” she looked you up and down again, making your heart sink into your gut, “your promotion is in effect immediately. They have sent a trooper down to get you and he’ll be here shortly.”

Your eyes were slow to react, feeling that this was just a bad joke. Why would they want you – a new graduate with no experience, no knowledge of real-life practice? Why were they entrusting you with the care of the elite members of the First Order? You barely had business sharing an elevator with Kylo Ren, let alone doing what you did _in that elevator_ with Kylo Ren.

You snapped out of your reverie, “Um. Are you sure it’s me that they asked for?” Your voice was small and doubtful.

She huffed under her breath and met your eyes with a confused smile. “Honey, I’m just as confused as you are. I just do what they tell me.”

You stood there, looking like an absolute moron, stethoscope around your neck, badge on your collar, which would no longer function in your new work area. You took a seat in one of the waiting room chairs, looking at numerous fledgling stormtroopers with their helmets off, obviously dehydrated from overtraining. You wondered what your new job would ensue. Would you still have direct contact with patients? Were you working under a renowned physician? Who were you working under? Why did they choose you?

Your mind raced and was halted by the doors hissing open, the aforementioned stormtrooper was here to take you to your new job. You looked up at him and stood. Your eyes were not filled with anger or agitation this time. No, today you met his mask with fear of the unknown and absolute confusion. You waved to your co-workers, I guess ex-co-workers now, and walked up to meet him.

“Ready to go?” He asked through his mask, sensing the fear from your eyes.

You could only offer him a slight nod and he led you out of the med bay. He slowed his pace to yours, as your feet were dragging, dreading their destination.

He coughed and began to talk, “Well, you’re less feisty this morning.” He bent his head down to find your face.

A swell of strange familiarity washed over you and dragged your eyes up to his mask, realizing he was the one who had led you to your seat at graduation. It was a welcome surprise knowing you were not completely alone on your journey to the unknown that awaited you upstairs.

“Well, there’s not thousands of people watching you babysit me this time, so my claws are put away. For now,” you smiled, enjoying the small chuckle that left his mask.

You walked in silence until you got to the main elevator. It was still too early for most shifts to begin, so the lobby was still empty, even of the startled maintenance man who’d witnessed you follow Kylo Ren out this morning.

“So,” you offered in the dead silence of the elevator, “where are you taking me?”

He pressed the button that read “VIP” and entered a code, “We’re going right to the top,” he said, resuming his place beside you, “You must be super skilled if they’re asking you to come work up here, especially when you’ve been working for less than a month.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” your mouth dried out, dread pitting in your stomach.

This has to be the work of Kylo Ren. Some twisted, inconvenient way for him to have you around him all the time. You were not super skilled, as the stormtrooper had put it. And he brought up the valid point of your inexperience. Everyone – you, the nurse manager, and even this stormtrooper – was thinking the same thing: _why is this girl getting placed so high up when she has nothing to show for it?_

The elevator dinged and you were swept from your thoughts. The stormtrooper took your shoulder in his hand and led you into the wide expanse, full of all manner of practices – engineers, healthcare workers, teachers, generals, captains, and your Commander.

Your eyes flew to Kylo Ren, who spun around, his robes chasing after him, and began stamping towards you. The stormtrooper gripped your shoulder, a signal to stop moving, and you halted your every movement.

It became clearer with every echoing _stomp_ that he was fuming with rage.

“You’re _late_ ,” his voice rasped through the modulator.

The stormtrooper left you to your demise, the stability his hand offered you now gone, causing you to fumble forward, to your knees, head directly angled in front of Kylo Ren’s pelvis when you looked up to find your bearings.

He chucked to himself under his mask, “Not just yet, officer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't personally consider this smut at all because I am still trying to figure all that out. I do laugh at the last line of this chapter every time I read it though, so at least I have that. Been working on future chapters and am just trying to figure out my style and what I want for my version of Kylo.
> 
> Let me know what I can improve on because sometimes I am so lost haha.


	3. A Different Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Hux gives you the run down of what to expect at your new assignment. Afterward, Kylo Ren makes an effort to welcome you personally.

There you were, kneeling in front of the Commander of the First Order in front of every living soul in your new, expansive, foreign workplace. Your eyes were saucers and your face was screaming red. You barely registered Kylo Ren’s suggestive remark as you clambered back upright, praying that, at the very least, General Hux hadn’t seen you in your incriminating position. Your prayers went unanswered.

You heard a strangled “H-hm,” behind you, and the red in your cheeks trickled down to your chest. You turned to meet his unimpressed glare.

“Good morning, general Hux,” was the only thing that came to your mouth.

His face didn’t move an inch from its usual disgusted and stoic state, “Now that you’re here, I can discuss your new position.”

You gave him a tight nod and followed in his quick footsteps, feeling Kylo Ren’s gaze on the back of your shoulders until you left the main functioning area. Hux led you into a room you could only assume was his office. It was freezing, every piece of furnishing was metal. You sat and were shocked by the burn of ice beneath your clothed thighs.

He walked around to his chair, metal as well, and stared at you, considering your presence. He finally sat and pulled a file from his desk. He took a sheet from it and slid it across the table for you to take.

Your eyes dropped from his to the paper in front of you. Upon further examination you realized it was a flight schedule. But, not just a general one that included all the TIE-fighters. No, this was the flight schedule for the _Command Shuttle_. The ship used to transport Kylo Ren to and from his mysterious escapades. You were confused; why would you need a flight schedule at all, let alone for the most elite ship in the First Order?

You glanced back up to Hux, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere in the world than here with you. You cleared you throat. “Sir, will you explain why I was called up here? And why I would ever need a copy of the Command Shuttle’s flight schedule?” You tried your best to sound respectful, not wanting to piss off another member of the elite.

He glared at you for a few more seconds before speaking. “I’m sure you are aware of the growing tensions between the Resistance and the First Order,” he paused until you offered an understanding nod. “Due to their growing resources, Supreme Leader Snoke has found it necessary to assign each member of the elite an individual care provider who will be available, and _responsible_ , for any emergency care needed by their assigned master.”

Your body stilled at his last word. _Master._ It rang around in your head, making you nauseous at the thought of being theoretically chained to an authority figure. You swallowed and continued to listen to Hux’s explanation.

“You, along with several other new graduates,” his admission to numerous new workers lifted some weight off of your shoulders, “have been called upon in order to shape you into the first line responders that the First Order expects you to be. You, however,” his nose twitched under these words, “were specifically chosen by Commander Ren,” his eyes held yours for a minute, looking for any inclination that you had any clue as to why. His expression fell in disappointment when your face met him with the same confusion he must have felt towards the decision.

What did you do to deserve this? He could not have orchestrated all of this in the time between seeing him today. No, this had to have been planned at least weeks in advance. You had not even been working for a month; there is no possible way that he’d entrust you with his safety and health. Why did he insist on pulling you into situations that made your skin burn, that made you grow contemptuous towards him? Did he think it was funny? Making you feel like a fish out of water? Was this all a game to him?

“Excuse me,” Hux pulled you out of your hate-filled reverie. “Like I was saying,” he looked you over with gall, “you will need to abide by this flight schedule so you can be readily available, should Commander Ren need aid upon arrival. Which, given his frequent and spontaneous fits of violence, should be expected more so than not.”

He stared at you, waiting for you to reply. Your mind held a million questions, but none of them were getting transmitted to your mouth. You cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to snap yourself back into reality. “General Hux, thank you for allowing me this opportunity, I just –,”

“Yes, you’re _welcome_ ,” he said, mouth coming together in a large, forced smile. He was cutting you off before you could try and get out of your new responsibilities.

You knew that you should be happy that you had gained such a grand promotion so early in your career, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had no business being here, no matter _who_ requested your services. You chose your next words carefully. “Yes, thank you. And I will obviously take these new responsibilities seriously, but I was wondering if you knew why Commander Ren requested me,” you paused for a second, searching his eyes for any information. “I mean, I know you wanted fresh recruits so you could shape them, but to my knowledge, and I’m not meaning to sell myself short, I was not anything but average in the academy. Sure, I can give competent care, but I have no reason to truly deserve to be here.”

Hux leaned back in his chair and tucked the file back into its place behind his desk. The corner of his mouth lifted into an infinitesimal smirk. “No, I agree with you completely. The generals and captains spent weeks going through the files of all of the new graduates, dwindling it down to only a select few who had performed at the top of their class and had the brightest recommendations from their instructors and preceptors,” his eyes seemed lost in thought. “Last week when Commander Ren and I were presented with the choices, I thought the offered pool was quite superior. But Commander Ren had a different opinion, so he requested your academic file and work log from the archives to look over by himself.”

You were soaking in all of the information Hux was providing you, even if he was only telling you so he could express how incompetent he truly felt you were. Kylo Ren had read your file. He knew everything about you. At least everything about you that spanned back to four years ago. He had your health physicals you’d been required to submit every school year. He had your recommendation letters needed to get you into the academy. _He had your address information, he knew when you clocked into work_. Your mind was spinning, trying to process everything in those files. He hadn’t wanted your care services; no, he just wanted to dig into your life with his gloved fingers and try and find a way to ruin it; try to find a way to ruin your career before it even began.

You were fuming now. You settled that exaggerated thankfulness would be the only way to get out of Hux’s office. “Well, how very _forward_ of him,” you spat out. “Thank you, general, I will take this schedule and update my calendar. Is there anything I can do now, while I’m up here?” You were seething in false cordiality, your cheeks straining from the forced smile.

Hux was taken back by your sudden shift in attitude. He stood from his chair and offered you his hand, challenging you to continue on with your new accepting demeanor.

You stood and gripped it firmly, watching his face as it fell back to his regular stoic features.

“No, officer, you are free to leave here. For now,” he handed you the flight schedule and ushered you out of his office. The door shut behind him, and you were left alone in the halls of the elite.

You traced your steps as best as you could in an effort to find your way back to the main elevators. You turned down one hall and then another, nothing indicating that you were making any progress towards your destination. The buzz of the fluorescents began to make your head throb and you tucked yourself away into a dip in the wall that led to an empty conference room. You stepped into it and found a chair, letting the darkness wash over you, finding solace in the peace it offered. You had barely had time to comprehend all that had gone on since you’d left your quarters this morning.

Your brain flipped through the feeling of Kylo Ren’s touch, remembering the taste and feel of his glove on your tongue. You thought to the various confused glances you’d received upon gaining the knowledge that _you_ were _chosen_ for such a prestigious task in the First Order. You tread your fingers down your face as you remembered who had chosen you. And, once again, you were flooded with hot, burning hatred. Hatred for Kylo Ren. Hatred for yourself. Hatred that you knew some part of you would forgive all of his errant behavior in exchange for a chance to feel his skin on yours, to discover the man under the mask.

You only realized you’d started crying when a tear looped its way into your mouth, falling salty onto your tongue. _God this is so stupid!_ Why were you crying in a dark abandoned conference room when you had no say in any of this? And you realized: that was precisely the reason for your tears. You had no choice here; Kylo Ren was forcing you to be a part of his life, forcing you to be involved with him. And all you could do was grin and bear it, knowing you had all of your limited power stripped away when you’d accepted his thumb into your mouth just hours ago.

You got up from your seat and wiped your tears on the backs of your hands. You sniffled and stood in front of one of the black reflective screens around the table. Your eyes were red-rimmed and your nose matched them. You braced yourself against the door to prepare to go out into the general public like this, but your path was interrupted by those all-enthralling black robes once again.

You stammered back into the table and leaned onto it. Your brain was warring with itself between feeling furious or excited by his presence. Your red eyes met his visor, glaring into it, hoping you’d drill holes into his skull.

The door _whooshed_ shut behind him and he advanced on you, placing your head between his gloved hands. Your body shivered from the heat they were radiating on your face. But you were determined to express your disdain for him. Your hands began to fly up to his wrists to try and pull them off of your face, but they were pinned to your sides by the invisible strength of the Force.

“Now, I don’t believe that is any way to greet your new boss,” he shattered the silence with his synthesized voice.

“Yes, and I don’t believe this is an appropriate position to be in with your care provider,” you spat, keeping his gaze.

He let a low chuckle out from his mask and began scooting you back to sit on the conference table. His hands dropped from your face to either side of you, making sure to barely graze the outside of your clothed hips. He leaned into you, placing his mask at your ear. “Would you prefer a different position?” You heard the sly smile in his voice.

Your heart rate picked up and your breathing quickened, your eyes growing frantic. He lifted the Force from your arms and they fell behind your back to support you. You wouldn’t allow yourself to submit to him this easily.

“How about the position where you tell me why you went through my archived files and _personally requested_ me to be your assigned care provider? I’d like that one,” your eyes bore into the black slit of his helmet.

His visor was back in front of you, now. His hands lifted from the table and he placed them on your hips, digging his thumbs into your thighs, fingers grasping your ass. Your shut your eyes to steady yourself, trying to run away from the lust screaming at you to give into him. He moved his hands down your legs and found your knees, where he peeled them away from each other. He ran one of them, warm leather and all, back up your thigh and placed it on the small of your back. He crushed you to him in an instant, forcing your legs to spread wider around his hips, his thick, obvious want no longer a secret under his robes. Your breath caught, your heart pounding with excitement, lips buzzing with anticipation. You were enraptured in his warmth, your face pressed against his broad chest. He hitched up one of your thighs with his other hand, causing your arms to find anchors in his.

Your brain was forgetting your contempt towards him with every long, warm second, your body begging you to surrender to him. All you wanted was to run your hands up to his face, but you were blockaded by the lifeless black helmet that sat upon his shoulders.

“Ugh,” you let out, frustrated with his choice in accessories, “if I could just see who you were under that mask this would all be so much easier.” You locked your other leg around him, trying to get as close to him as possible, and you heard as he let out a long sigh.

The hand on the small of your back drifted back down, his other hand setting your leg back on the table. He was pulling away from you, and you _hated_ it. You tried to keep his arms encased in your grip, but he was too strong, treating you as if you were a gnat flying around his face. Your arms dropped and fell into your spread lap, your eyes settling on his boots.

He pinched your chin with his gloved hand, forcing your head towards him. “Didn’t I tell you about that mouth of yours just this morning?” He said, eyeing you through his mask.

Your eyes fell to his pelvis, wanton for any form of contact with it. You stalled there for too long, and he noticed.

He shook your face in his hand and your eyes startled up to his once more. “I think it’s time for you to resume that earlier position.”

He tore you from the table and shoved you onto your knees. Your eyes were inches away from his desire, wanting so bad to reach out and take it. Your rage had entirely dissolved for the time being.

He was looking down at you, his hands messing with his belt, working to break himself free. “Is that what you want, little girl? You want my cock in your mouth, dirty thing?” He taunted you.

Your eyes looked pointedly into his visor. “Yes, Commander,” you gave him your best lust-filled eyes, licking your lips.

He grunted and you looked down; he had broken loose from the confines of his clothes. Your eyes popped open at the sight of his erection; it was an impossible size, every hardened inch it caused your breath to catch. A long vein anchored itself to the bottom of his shaft, throbbing as you continued to dedicate him to memory. Your mouth was salivating from the anticipation. Your hands shot up with excitement but were halted just as quickly by the Force

He grasped the back of your head, long digits gaining leverage through twisted tendrils. He anchored your gaze to his. “Where are your manners?” He was prompting you, all the while stroking his impressive length.

You couldn’t help the smirk that came upon your lips. “Yes, _please_ , Commander Ren,” you corrected yourself.

“Much better,” he placed the tip of his cock at the entrance of your mouth and your lips spread to receive it.

Your tongue drew a flat line over the slit of his head, licking the pre-cum from him, reveling in his taste. Your hands jerked him as he pushed further into your mouth, the Force conveniently lifting. He was seething through his mask as he felt the warmth of your wet cheeks sucking him, welcoming his length further into you. When he pressed to the back of your throat, you gagged, and he stifled a moan through his mask.

“Yes,” he breathed, “take all of me.” He began rocking his hips back and forth, your tongue massaging him to the base of his cock, your lips stretching as he brought your head back and forth to match the rhythm of his hips. Your eyes never left his gaze, making him memorize your hunger-filled eyes.

His breathing was coming faster as your mouth was quickening its pace, working its way around Kylo Ren’s dick. When he reached out and steadied himself with the wall, you felt a sense of accomplishment, prompting you to curl your lips around your teeth, biting down onto his hard desire. His head flew back, and his thrusts began to come at an irregular pace, stuttering into you. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed.

Your clit was aching to be touched, feeling left out watching Kylo Ren come undone inside your mouth. You took one of your hands and reached underneath the waistline of your pants, rubbing tight circles around your nub, fingers now drenched in the fluids from your own desire. You moaned onto his cock and his head came back down in pleasure, his breath wild.

He halted your fingers and pinned your hands back to your side. Your whimpered in protest and shot him a glare. “Just like how I decide when you touch me, _I_ decide when you touch yourself,” He spoke in ragged fragments, revealing how close he was to exploding.

He grabbed his cock at the hilt and pulled out from your mouth. He jerked himself and held your head steady in his grasp. He let out a deep moan and you watched as his member shot out thick ropes of hot, white cum that collected on your nose and cheeks and in your mouth.

You swallowed what had fell onto your tongue and licked around to gather all that had come down around the perimeter of your mouth. He watched you as he jerked himself through his climax, breath coming down from his high.

“Good, little girl,” he said, moving his grasp to your chin, pulling you up towards his visor. He tucked himself away and fastened his belt. He collected the rest of the evidence of his climax from your cheeks and pushed his fingers into your mouth. You sucked them clean, tongue twirling around his digits to ensure you got all of it, throat whimpering tiny moans as you did. You had your gaze locked with his and your hands were gripped around his wrist, stabilizing you to him.

You finished cleaning his gloves and he took his fingers from your mouth and removed your hands from his wrist. He unwound his digits from your hair and he took your hand from your side, the hand you’d snuck release with.

“This one, too,” his voice had come down from his ecstasy. He pushed your fingers into your mouth and you sucked the remnants of dried fluid from your fingers. You reveled in how you tasted together, your eyes shutting in want.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb, prompting your eyes back open. He held you there for what felt like forever. When he released you from all of his connection, you wilted; heart falling, shoulders slumping.

He turned and walked towards the door, stopping right before exiting. He seemed to hesitate there for a moment too long. “I chose you because I –,” he paused, “you fascinate me.”

Your brow furrowed and you began advancing on him, wanting more of his words. He unlocked the door and it hissed open.

“I will be expecting you tonight,” he said behind the mask.

_What does that mean? He wants you to see him tonight?_

“What, um – what do you mean?” You stammered out, breathlessly, as quickly as you could.

“I’m leaving for a short time in an hour. I will be arriving back late tonight. I expect you’ll be there should I require your care,” he stalked off into the hallway, leaving you in the dark emptiness of the conference room.

You found your reflection in the screen again, eyes no longer red, but your puffy mouth had taken their place. You smoothed over your hair and waved your hands over your knees, wiping any dirt from them. You made your way back into the hallway and finally found your way to the elevators.

For the first time today, you spent the whole ride in peace, not interrupted by dark storms of fabric or even familiar storm troopers. You half-jogged back to your quarters and threw on an old shirt and some panties and grabbed the flight schedule from your scrub pocket on the ground. You would need to arrive back to your workstation at 2300. You looked for one of the numerous clocks on your walls. It was currently 1100, and you didn’t know how long you’d be up during your shift. You decided it was wise to get some extra sleep before your first night being assigned to Kylo Ren.

You huddled under the covers, set an alarm on your phone, and vowed to update Mason on as much as you could when you got the chance. You shut your eyes and tried your hardest to keep your dreams free of _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, finally some real smut for once! I decided this would be a nice way to get the ball rolling. Kylo Ren is so confusing sometimes, gosh! 
> 
> Seriously, this fic has brought a new spark into my life that I haven't felt in a very long time, and I appreciate all the feedback you guys give me. I've plotted up to chapter 7 and you guys! I think this fic is gonna turn out really interesting in the end. I don't say this to entice or tease; I really don't know what I even expect to write along the way, haha!
> 
> Alright, see you guys next week with chapter four!
> 
> \- ST


	4. Broken Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You miss Kylo Ren's arrival on your first shift, and he is not too happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: waterboarding (per a friend's advice lmao), stolen orgasm.

The alarm lulled you awake. It was more of a gentle pull towards consciousness than an abrupt interruption of peace. You stretched and reveled in the warmth the covers offered you, and took a deep breath, shifting in bed to turn your alarm off.

2245\. _2245_. Wait. Why had you set an alarm for this time of night? Disoriented, you positioned yourself on your elbows, blinking your eyes into clarity. You read the alarm’s title:

_Command Shuttle Returns. BE ON TIME!_ You read further down: _Alarm set for 2130._

You didn’t know it was possible, but you somehow simultaneously lost all the air from your lungs and also started hyperventilating at the same time. You had slept through your alarm. The alarm that you set so you could be extra early as to avoid pissing off Kylo Ren ever again. You pouted and nervously laughed through the chaos that had begun around you; you were throwing your drawers open, clothes flying behind you; you missed a hook on your bra and decided it was not worth it, you grappled your hair up into a bun that you never checked in the mirror. At some point you swigged mouthwash for half a second and spent the next half shoving a ration bar into your mouth. You shot out of the door with your keycard in one hand and your badge in the other, only hoping you had grabbed everything you needed, and sprinted down the dimly lit hall towards the elevators.

As you began plunging toward the Elite floor you compulsively checked your watch every ten seconds; time was setting your skin on fire and making your lungs heavy. The inside of your cheek may as well have been ground beef after nearly gnawing it off in your tornado of tardiness. Your eyes were shut as you kept warding off the self-inflicted mental whipping going on in your head, trying to block out its annoying way of pointing out hard truths. _You really let this happen_ again? _Are you actually the dumbest person on this base? This is the whole reason you’re in this mess in the first place. You_ deserve _whatever sadistic way Kylo Ren decides to kill you_.

The doors hissed open and you flew through them. After running towards nothing for a minute, you stopped. You didn’t know where to go. You thought back to yesterday when general Hux had led you back to his office. You briefly remember him talking about a workstation, but you had grinned your way out of his office too early, never getting shown where it was. _Could this get any worse?_

You spied an unsuspecting engineer and barreled toward him. “Sir, sir! Do you know where Commander Ren would be right now?” You were made hyperaware of your frantic appearance as the worker’s pupils swelled in surprise. He threw his arm out to the side, scrambling away from your rabid demeanor. You shot your eyes towards his gesture and you spotted it.

The Command Shuttle had returned. You looked down to your watch, noting that you still had two minutes before you were technically late. Your legs bounded through the wide-open main area, your lungs burning in your throat. When you stumbled to a stop, standing in place next to the descended ramp, you noticed that stormtroopers were still spilling out of the ship. _Maybe you weren’t so late after all._ Not knowing where to go, or if you were supposed to be somewhere else, you waited there, hoping that this was where you were supposed to meet your assigned _master_ , as Hux had so eloquently put it.

You continued to stand at your assumed post, watching as stormtroopers and engineers moved about the intimidating ship. Your eyes caught the many lingering stares you were attracting, and your brain started getting a sense that you were not intended to be there. You peaked down at your watch, doing a double take. You had been standing there for ten minutes.

Your breath stopped in your throat and you looked up, head lurching around your shoulders, trying to find any indication of your workstation. Nothing. _Maybe I should just look and see if he’s still on the ship_ , you thought as you couldn’t think of anything to do. You swallowed and made your way to the front of the ramp, only getting one stride up when you were halted.

“Hey! You do not have permissions to board this ship. Evacuate the vicinity immediately,” a stormtrooper muffled through his mask.

Your heart, and your body, jumped. You stepped off the ramp and circled to see the man wearing the white armor. “I’m so sorry. I just – I don’t know where I’m supposed to be and I thought maybe Ky – Commander Ren would still be on board and – “

He held up a hand and silenced your pitiful rambling. “It’s you, again,” the man said in a gentler tone.

Your eyes glanced up to his mask, pointlessly searching for any clue as to who this person may be. Memories of your graduation flickered through your eyes, remembering being pushed into the brimming arena, and then you thought back to just twelve hours ago as you were led to the Elite floor for the first time. Some part of you felt a deep sense of relief at the fact that he was the one who caught you.

Your shoulders fell back and you breathed for the first time in what felt like minutes. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite babysitter,” you teased him.

He relaxed the blaster in his arms. “Hey, I just do what I’m told,” he held up both of his hands in mock defense. “Now, why were you trying to board the Command Shuttle?”

Your blood was tinged with dread when he snapped you back to the dreadful reality of your current position. “I – tonight is my first night assigned to Commander Ren for emergency medical care and, and,” you took a second to still yourself, feeling anxious and shameful tears rising in your sinuses, “I don’t know where the med bay is or where I’m even supposed to be and I don’t want to get in trouble with –“ The words just kept piling out of your mouth, reflecting the state of hysteria in your brain; your eyes were dancing around the room, refusing to focus.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said as he moved closer to you, “hey, slow down. It’s going to be fine. Can I tell you something? Will you listen to me?” He reached out his arm but stopped it right before he could graze your forearm.

You looked up at him through blurry eyes, sniffling your nose and clearing your throat. You meekly nodded at him.

“Okay, alright, good,” his tone was working on soothing your involuntary gasps, “guess what? The Command Shuttle arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule. And, and Commander Ren got off before the ramp was even fully down. Okay? Just take a deep breath.”

Your mind was distantly aware that this stormtrooper had done more for you than Kylo Ren ever would, but mostly you were still focused on the growing probability of losing your job – or your life – due to a scheduling error that you had no way of predicting.

You were working through the remnants of your outburst, hot tears streaming down your face. “What if he’s hurt? What if the Commander of the First Order dies and it’s _my fault_?” A nervous wheeze left your throat, an indication of another nervous fit to come.

The stormtrooper gripped both of your shoulders in his hands, making you gasp and look up to him with wet cheeks and red eyes.

“Hey, hey. No. He’s not hurt. I promise you, Commander Ren is completely fine. I watched him nearly take my buddy’s head off on the way back to Starkiller. He’s _fine_ ,” the Storm trooper stressed, somehow verbalizing his reassuring gaze through his words.

You decided to accept his explanation. What other option did you really have? You moved your hands so they gripped his wrists and you gave him a small smile. “Thank you,” and you knit your brow, realizing you didn’t know his name.

He took notice of your change of facial expression. “Whoa, is it happening again, do you need –”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “um, I just. I don’t know your name.”

He let go of your shoulders, and your wrists fell back to your sides. You watched as he stiffened slightly. “I’m RB-6745, member of Starkiller brigade 1298.”

_Fuck_. You had momentarily forgotten that Storm troopers didn’t have names. Well, at least the First Order didn’t give them any. You tried to make up for your forgetfulness.

“RB, huh? How do you feel about Robbie?” You offered him a name, a gesture for his gracious coaching through your lapse in sanity a moment ago.

He stood there for a second, mask lifting to look at the wall behind you. His mask shifted back to your gaze. “Robbie,” he tried it on for size, “I like it.”

You smiled up at him and pinched – or at least tried to – his forearm, the armor making it impossible. “Well, then, thank you _Robbie_ , for being kind to me when you could have just reported me. It’s nice to meet you, by the way,” something in you was warm as you talked with him, telling you that this connection was good and light.

“Nice to officially meet you, as well,” he said your name. “Thank you,” he gripped your shoulder one last time and walked past you, up the ramp onto the Command Shuttle.

There were less people funneling in and out of it now, leaving you to consider your purpose being up there anymore. You did a quick perimeter sweep before leaving, leading you to your assigned workstation. It was an impressive space, the Elite med bay, but the only thing that stood out to you was the name marque on the door, which read, simply, _Commander Kylo Ren_. You briefly thought about how you were considered less of a person than a tool on this floor. You didn’t stay to explore what was offered beyond the door, figuring you could do that on one of your day shifts when you _didn’t_ nearly have a heart attack just minutes prior.

You made your way back to your floor, the lights still dim due to the ungodly hour it currently was. You set your stuff down and exhaled. The only thing that could alleviate your fried nerves was a sweltering hot shower. You shimmied out of your scrubs, adding to the hurricane of clothes you’d dug through a few hours ago. You let your hair out of the knotted bun you’d wrestled it into earlier, and you set the shower to the highest setting.

The water was healing to your mind; you were so focused on the burns it was leaving that you barely had time to think about how just this morning, your life had looked completely different from how it does now. You thought about Kylo Ren’s thumb in your mouth, his hips digging into your belly, pushing you both into the wall. You remembered how much you hated him in that elevator, how much you wanted to avoid him at all costs. He made your skin burn hotter than the water hitting it now, but part of you lived for that – the intense feeling of something new and forbidden. As you washed your hair your mind dug deeper into your new memories of Kylo Ren, like his hands on your thighs, digging his thumbs into their creases. Or how you’d knelt in front of him and swallowed his cock to his hips, making him throw his head back in pleasure as you worked your mouth around him.

Your breathing was getting heavier when you heard something. It was distant, but it sounded as if it were in your living quarters. Your eyes shot open and you used your forearms to cover your breasts, listening for a minute. It sounded like footsteps; they were heavy and slow, almost predatory in their unseen presence. You turned the water off and listened closer, barely breathing at all, hunched over in the corner of the shower stall.

_Thump_ , came one last footstep, and then _shvu_ , went the door to your bathroom. Your guts were covered in an insidious black dread, face drawing pale as your body prioritized your vital organs when switching to fight or flight mode.

“I thought I’d find you in bed, give you the benefit of the doubt that you’d slept through our appointment.” Kylo Ren’s mechanical voice shattered the silence, causing you to still completely.

The only part of you that moved was your eyes, drawing up to see his blurred figure through the foggy glass of the shower stall. He wasn’t rushing towards the door, instead stopping to feather his gloved fingers over your belongings and stare into the mirror.

You watched as he stood nearly motionless while he watched his reflection. “But instead I find you here, awake, abandoning your assignment willfully,” he stood there for a few seconds and moved to remove his cowl from his head.

A few more seconds passed and you watched his shoulders as they rose and fell evenly, his chest to match them. “I’d like to remind you of a certain _promise_ you made to me, personally.” His hands rose up to the locks on his helmet and your veins iced over.

The muzzle of his helmet hissed forward. Your eyes followed his hands as they pulled the massive helmet from his shoulders. You couldn’t make out any small details on his face, but just the sight of his raven black hair as it fell back to his shoulders in soft curls made your body erupt in goosebumps. Even through the near opaque fog of the glass, he was already stealing your breath.

He continued to remove the layers of his clothing as he talked. “More importantly, I’d like to remind you of the consequences of that same promise.”

You, of course, were terrified by the words coming from him, but you were also entranced by _how_ he was saying them. His voice, the real one he kept buried underneath that thick modulation, was so rich and full, nearly melodious. It was deep, yet soft. And in spite of the poison currently tinging the edges of his words, your ears wanted him to continue listen to him a little longer.

He had removed his gloves and was working on unfastening his belt. “You see, you work for me, now. I am your _master_ ,” the word from his mouth sent chills down your spine, “and I can make sure, as I told you when we met, that you never work under the First Order in _any_ position.” He had dropped his belt and was now shucking off his outer robes.

You were tracing the movements of his long, pale fingers. His hands were so big you could barely believe it. You also couldn’t believe how many more clothes he had to remove.

“Now, I have a few options,” he began working on the multiple pieces of thick under armor he had on, “the most obvious being to dismiss you from your position and leave you to ultimately live a life of suffering due to how unemployable I have the ability to make you…”

Your heart fell as he said the words. You knew they were true; he could make your life as miserable as he wanted, no matter how unfair it was. If the Commander of the First Order writes that you’re an incompetent piece of shit, you’re pretty much a waste of space. You swallowed the bile in your throat and continued to listen.

“And then, of course, I could also send you off into space, leaving you to die of oxygen deprivation in a confinement shuttle,” he kicked off his boots and knelt down to pull off his socks.

You silently stopped your breath at his admission. _He wouldn’t,_ part of you thought. But the other part of you, the part that housed logic and reason, knew that he, _indeed_ , would. He didn’t care about you. You were a fascination to him, something for him to play with.

He pulled off his long-sleeved undershirt from the back of his neck, letting it fall into the obscenely large pile of clothing at his side. “But, there is a third option,” he informed you as he pulled the drawstring of his pants, staring at his reflection for a second. “I could forgive your absence and act as if none of this had ever happened,” you heard the sly tone rise in his voice, “so long as you do me a favor.”

His pants fell to the floor, leaving you to see the thick outline of his body through the misted glass. As you were straining your eyes to get even the tiniest bit of detail on his body, the water shot on and scalded your skin.

“Ahh,” you gasped and spun into the unforgiving jets above you, stinging your eyes. You dug your thumbs into them to try and alleviate the pain and when you opened your eyes again, you gasped; he was in front of you, both of you completely naked.

Your eyes didn’t know what to focus on first, darting around in shock as your they still slightly burned. You settled on working your way down.

Before the water could completely flatten it to his scalp, you noticed how thick and full his hair was. You noticed it fell in wisps across his forehead, mussed up from the helmet. Your eyes found his and your heart dropped. They were stunning. A dark amber with honey-golden flecks. Their intensity without the barrier of the helmet was nearly unbearable to absorb. His nose was aquiline and prominent with light freckles sprayed across his high cheekbones. His face was long, his jaw strong and set firm under his anger for you. His lips, no matter the fact they were set in a hard line, were full and plush, a dusky blush tone. You wanted them on yours.

Your lips parted at the thought and your eyes explored further, following the perfect lines of his clavicle to note the true, agonizing width of his shoulders. It seemed as if it were possible for him to carry the entire planet on them without difficulty. His arms had obvious, prominent veins running down to his rough and calloused hands. You swept your gaze down his muscled and scarred abdomen and stopped at his growing length as he began to stroke it.

Your attention darted back up to his eyes, which were focused on your breasts. Your breath caught as you realized he had also been taking _you_ in. His eyes met yours for the first time.

“I think I know which option I’m going with,” he said as he plunged you against the shower wall, bruising your lips with his.

He was relentless, forcing his tongue into your mouth and exploring every part of you. After a second of shocked realization that this was actually happening, you surrendered into the kiss. Your arms slicking over his hot, wet skin, trying to find any place to anchor yourself onto him. Your fingers only got to meet the thick locks of his hair for a second before he pinned your wrists above your head with the Force.

You tried to groan in frustration, but only a muffled, pitiful whimper died into his mouth. One of his hands was gripping the base of your hair, the other crushing you to his body at your lower back. You felt his thick, hard cock press into your thighs. He shifted his hips until he’d angled himself between your folds, his length grazing over your clit. You gasped and tried to bring your hands down, the Force merciless, your hips trying to coax him closer to your entrance.

His lips moved down to your neck as he sucked a purple welt into your skin. His hand left your back to grasp one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he kneaded. You moved your leg to hitch around his waist and he grunted in frustration. He removed his hands and spun you around, pressing your chest against the shower wall.

“You’re a greedy whore,” he said through clenched teeth, his lips against your ear.

The Force only left your hands for a moment when he spun you, keeping them nailed above you. Your face was to the side, your cheek sliding across the slick tile. The water was hindering your ability to open your eyes or breathe through your nose, making you rely on your sense of touch. He was angling himself back between your thighs, skimming his head against your clit, making you writhe while his body pressed you further into the wall.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as one of his hands grazed your belly, leaving trails of his fingers behind. His other hand angled your head back further, making it hard to breathe even through your mouth.

“Let’s see how you feel about broken promises,” he said before slamming his full length into you in one solid movement.

You gasped, aspirating on the water that was falling into your slack jaw. You barely registered your own choking as his cock broke you in half, seemingly shifting your pelvis into a permanent new width. “ _Fuck_ ,” you garbled out through choked tones as the water kept streaming into your throat.

He seethed as he pulled back, reveling to himself. “How are you so fucking tight?” He asked, his breath hot on your neck.

He began pumping into you at an unforgiving pace, obviously punishment for not showing up. You felt it wasn’t the best time to mention that it wasn’t really your fault, so you kept your mouth shut just for the time being.

Your body was shaking from the force of his hips, his hand was still gripping your head to his chest, continuing to choke you on the unbroken jets of water. You coughed, your body’s effort at trying to save you from drowning, and he grunted as he found pleasure in the evidence of your struggle.

“I guess there’s always a fourth option,” he said through his thrusts, panting, “I could just drown you to death while I fuck your tight little cunt.” He angled your head back further, forcing your jaw open to fill with water.

He shifted his hand down from your belly onto your clit and started making premeditated, tight circles around your raised flesh. You tried to stifle it, but you gasped, forcing you to inhale the water at the back of your mouth. Your eyes squeezed even tighter as you tried to gasp for air, only making you choke further. He kept up his furious pace, both from his hips and his fingers, building your body up towards release. The higher he built you, the harder it was to hold your breath. Your ears started ringing from oxygen deprivation, and he suddenly relieved his clutch on your hair. Your head shot forward, nearly cracking the shower tile, coughing an entire lung’s worth of water up, your back meeting his chest as your throat thickened in pain. _He’s fucking insane_.

“But I’d rather you choke on something different, if that’s how you go,” he had a private laugh to himself.

As you heaved oxygen back into your lungs, he kept his unyielding hips going, never fully letting you recover full lung capacity as he brought you to the edge of your climax. You braced your forehead against the tile and held your breath, waiting for him to send you over into the abyss. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” you moaned in anticipation.

Once he had you positioned to explode, he pulled out from your core and removed his hands from any part of you.

Your body burned, your core ached, your brain lit up in white, hot fury. “God, I fucking _hate you_!” you spat out through clenched teeth, punching the wall with closed fists.

“And there’s that mouth again, forever your greatest downfall,” he said as the Force dissipated from your wrists, moving to your shoulders as it pushed you down to your knees – making an obvious _crack_ – and spun you around to meet his thick, pulsing cock.

He had no mercy as he forced himself to the back of your throat in one swift move, forcing you to wretch, his hand gripping your hair once again, guiding you back and forth to meet his violent thrusts, your chin crashing into his balls with each plunge.

You tried saying “You’re fucking demented,” but it only came out as garbled nonsense, the vibrations from your voice instead causing him further pleasure. He watched you as your eyes filled with tears and your mouth stretched to capacity by his dick. He groaned, deep and throaty, making you wince and writhe from your screaming clit.

He began stuttering his breaths, his thrusts becoming unpredictable. “Fuck, _fuck_ –” Kylo hissed your name through clenched teeth, his free hand slamming against the shower to find stability.

Without warning, he shot streams of cum down your unsuspecting throat, withdrawing his cock and watching as you choked on his own seed.

“Fuck,” you stuttered and gasped, “you,” you shot daggers towards his sated, post-orgasm eyes, knowing he didn’t care one bit.

He jerked himself through the falling waves of his climax and you watched as his breathing came down to normal.

The Force was off of your shoulders and you staggered to your feet, vehemently enraged with his blatant disrespect and apathy towards your life. “What the actual _fuck_ is _wrong with you_? You almost fucking _killed_ me, you psychotic bastard.” You tried to push into his chest, but his hands caught you by your wrists, clutching bruises into them.

You wrestled with him until you realized he wasn’t going to let you go. “Ugh,” you rolled your eyes and then glared into his.

“Now you know how I felt when you weren’t there,” he revealed through distant, revenge-filled eyes.

You watched as his face slightly gave away something more than he was portraying through his voice – something along the lines of abandonment and broken trust. You were confused that he would think you had meant to cause these feelings, but you were too enraged to care that he did.

You let out a loud, angry sigh and rivaled the daggers he was shooting at you with full blown swords. “ _Commander_ , I should inform you that your ship arrived way sooner than it said on the flight schedule. None of this was my fault,” you may as well have had steam coming out of your ears.

His face fell from the anger it had held a moment ago, but not to an expression of sorrow. His features configured into a dull, expressionless void. “That is inconsequential. You have an assignment, you show up when you are needed,” he released your wrists, still holding your gaze and the tension in between. “I expect you’ve learned your lesson and you’ll try harder to keep your promise for the foreseeable future.”

He stepped out of the shower, leaving you to stand there in the scalding streams, perplexed by his emotions and pissed off by his apathy towards your explanation. You gathered yourself, shut the water off, and left the stall. He had already gotten fully dressed. _How long had you stood there?_

He stared at you, naked, and his eyes went back up to your indignant gaze. You decided you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, even though it’s lead to Kylo Ren’s cock down your windpipe twice now. “Kylo –” you watched as his brow cocked in warning. “Commander Ren,” you caught yourself before you rolled your eyes, “I don’t know what you want from me – I can’t predict if the Command Shuttle is going to show up early or not.” You watched his face before you continued, testing the waters. “You can’t expect me to know the future.” You stared at him, watching his eyes consider you.

After a minute, his eyes dropped as he placed his helmet back on his head. He looked back to you through his visor. “You’re right. I will make the proper arrangements to your assignment and will make sure you are updated,” his tone had grown heart-shatteringly cold, betraying no emotion.

He forced the door open and you listened as the sound of his boots grew farther away, hearing your front door hiss open and closed as he left your quarters. You felt hollow with his absence, which deepened your aggravation with yourself; how could he enrage you through so many acts of bullshit – nearly _drowning_ you to death while he fucked you, dangling your release and then completely eviscerating it, making you choke on his cum, and punishing you for something you had no control over – and still your skin burn for him? It didn’t make any sense for you to feel this way for him when he treated you with less respect than a diagnostic droid.

You dried off and picked up the mess you’d made earlier. You looked at the clock. _0200._ You weren’t necessarily tired so much as you were exhausted; exhausted from the seemingly constant chaos that Kylo Ren had introduced into your life, exhausted from the way he made you feel and having to process those feelings. Exhausted from knowing you had no way out of this.

Your bed was cold as you tucked yourself into it, reminding you how alone you really were. You tried to think about Robbie, how being around him made you feel compared to being around _Commander Ren_ , you thought mockingly. Robbie was the one who soothed you from the fits that Kylo Ren brought on. And you knew you should have dreamt about Robbie, but your mind decided, instead, to fall asleep to the thoughts of Kylo Ren finally giving you that sweet release he had withheld tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly do not know what possessed me while writing this chapter. I like how it turned out, but I just don't know why, of all things, this is what came out of my brain. I rewrote this chapter so many times it pains me to think of the wasted hours spent writing thousands of words that will never be seen (because they were complete bullshit but I digress).
> 
> If you're interested in what could've been, I'll be posting some post-chapter notes on my tumblr - Strongtwiheart - later in the day.
> 
> Alright, guys. Tell me what you think and what you want because I am in for all the advice and ideas I can get.
> 
> \- ST


	5. K.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get the opportunity to get some of the pent up craziness out of your system, too bad it doesn't last too long.

The week since Kylo Ren had nearly drowned you went by slowly, dragging on as you spent your days doing mindless inventory of the med bay, which had not changed due to the lack of medical care you’d been providing ever since you started at this assignment. You had a day off and you needed to tell someone about all that was happening in your life – at least _some_ of it, anyway – so you called Mason for lunch. Some miracle in the stars occurred and you were both off.

You were waiting for him to join you at the table you’d chosen in the café, secluded in a corner to allow for maximum covertness – it also came with the added benefit of poor lighting that would be useful in covering up the bruises Kylo Ren had left you with. You spied him across the room and waved your hand as you stood to grab his attention. He skipped forward when he noticed, basically jogging towards you. He crashed into you and clutched his arms around you.

“It has been _too_ long, my friend,” he said while squeezing your ribcage.

“I know, I know,” you said through strained words.

He released you and you smiled up at him. You had forgotten how nice his presence was – warm and personal, he nearly made you forget why you’d asked him to lunch. You both took your seats and a waitress came by and took your orders. When she left, you both looked at each other expectantly.

“So, what’s been –”

“How have you been?”

You both laughed at your simultaneous inquiries of each other. “No, no, you’re my guest; how have _you_ been?” You stressed your eyes pointedly towards him.

“I can’t complain; I’m working under Dr. Soto for all the emergency cases that come in through the storm trooper hub. Yeah, in the past month I’ve seen an extreme rise in dehydrated storm troopers; General Hux works them too hard for too long.” Mason looked lost in thought, distaste for the General was new for him, something he’d obviously adopted during his short time of residency.

“Agreed. I mean, I understand that the Resistance is always going to be a threat – threat being a very generous word – but it seems like more and more of our soldiers are dropping like flies,” you said, prompting him to move forward.

“You don’t even know the _half_ of it,” he stressed your name as he rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Just last week I had five troopers seize on me due to extensive dehydration. If Phasma would just let them get treatment sooner, so many unnecessary deaths could be avoided.” He seemed exasperated, like this had been on his mind a lot.

“You’d think they would care more about the lives and well-being about our first line defense, seeming as they provide protection for the entire First Order,” you added.

Mason scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “You’d _think_ , but no. It’s actually quite literally the opposite. The troopers get the very bottom of the totem pole when it comes to medical care; the heads of the Elite view stormtroopers as expendable plastic, easily replaceable,” Mason chewed his lip.

You slightly paled as you thought about Robbie. He was a stormtrooper, no matter if he served on the front lines. He deserved better than a haste-filled replacement if something ever happened to him. You shivered and Mason noticed.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean to upset you. I just get really heated on the topic.”

“Mason, no, you’re fine. I’m a big girl. _I’m_ not the one who fainted when we were learning how to start IVs.” You thought this may lighten the atmosphere.

“Yeah, yeah, keep bringing that one up,” he smiled.

The waitress came back with food and drinks as you laughed at the nostalgia.

As you sipped your drink, you caught on to something Mason had said. “Hey, you mentioned something about a totem pole of healthcare and how the Elite are involved?” You tried to hide your interest under a tone of vague curiosity, wanting him to give an unbiased answer, trusting his bluntness would give in to your coaxing.

He finished chewing and wiped his face with his napkin. “Oh yeah, definitely. _God_ ,” he huffed, “if there’s anything I hate about my job, it’s having to interact with those self-involved blowhards who wouldn’t know what empathy was if it was shoved up their –”

“ _Mason_ ,” you warned him of his escalating volume, looking around for any onlookers.

He sighed and slumped back. “I know. I just – I’m gonna tell you something about the budgeting and you _cannot_ tell _anyone_. I’m serious,” he peaked over his shoulders and pinned your eyes down.

You furrowed your brow. “Of course, tell me anything,” you wondered what could possibly be so private that he had to question your loyalty.

He peaked over his shoulder one last time and darkened his eyes. “The majority of the medical budget for this quarter went to a new program where every member of the Elite was assigned a private care provider. Most of the money didn’t even going to the providers, it went to the construction of private med bays for the commanders and generals.”

He looked at you intently and you swallowed, your heart sinking into your chest. Your best friend was diametrically opposed to the existence of your assignment and you inwardly scrambled trying to find a way to tell him.

You decided a clean, rip-off-the-bandage, method was the only way to keep you honest. “Wow, Mason. I um,” you swallowed as your eyes circled the room around him, “I know.” When you found his eyes again, they were stuck, stunned in confusion.

“Wait, how do – who told, what?” He stuttered out.

You shook your head gently. “I’m one of the care providers. I got my assignment last week.” You watched as his body language changed.

He leaned away from you, observing you from below his lids, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh,” he looked back up at you, “I didn’t – I guess I just assumed the Elite would want more, I don’t know, experienced workers,” he shrugged his shoulders while admitting this.

This angered you. It was different when others had questioned your position, it was even different when you doubted it yourself – but for Mason, your best friend, someone who had watched you endure the struggles and celebrations throughout school, to look you up and down and blatantly doubt your competence? It hurt. It resonated through your bones.

You retracted as far into your chair as you could, bringing your gaze down and biting your tongue, not wanting to say something you’d have to apologize for in the future. You tried to see his side of it; he didn’t truly hate _you_ , he hated your position. He hated that the creation of your assignment was taking away from the care and safety of others. And you agreed with that; it was unfair for the First Order to take away from the general population just so the Elite could gain a sense of superiority over its own members. And, yes, the days you spent fingering through shelves of pristine and top of the line medical supplies that went untouched only proved his point further. But he still had no right dismissing your ability, no matter if it hadn’t been what had gotten you here to begin with. _How did Kylo Ren have the power to complicate your life even in his absence?_

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, I just –” Mason tried to reach you through your self-induced time out.

“I think you may not have meant it _like that_ , but it sure as hell came off like it, Mason,” you were still chewing the inside of your cheek, holding back the hot rivers of poisoned words waiting to pour out.

Mason’s shoulders fell and he leaned into the table, whispering your name. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I have no doubt that you’re great at your job, you know that, right?”

His soft tone prompted the resolution of the firestorm brewing in your chest, cooling the pits of insecure hatred. You looked back up to him and he gave you a small half smile.

You fixed your posture and gave him that same half smile back. “I know, I do,” you rolled your eyes, “maybe _I’m_ the one who doubts my position there. Or even the position’s existence at all,” you sipped your drink and completely left your short-lived rage behind you.

“Well, don’t,” he said, joining you in your sip, “you are the most capable person of – what do they have you doing up there anyway?” His face crinkled, forming new questions behind his inquisitive eyes.

You didn’t know how much you wanted to tell him, given his reaction to just the fact you were involved with the Elite. “Not much, I do a lot of inventory stuff,” you shrugged.

He challenged your statement with a face of disbelief. “And what else? They can’t just have you up there for bookkeeping. No, who’s your assignment?”

You felt your pupils dilate in response to his question. _Who_ was the last question you wanted to answer. You cleared your throat and squared your shoulders. “I’m not at liberty to say,” your tone was light, attempting to save him from the immensity of the true answer.

He laughed. “Yeah, _sure_. C’mon, tell me who you got? You know I won’t tell anyone. It’s not like it’s one of the _higher up_ higher ups.”

Your eyes stalled on his and then fell to the side. Suddenly he was nearly leaning out of his chair. “Wait, _no_. No _way_ , I do not believe you.”

You smiled knowingly. “I have said nothing for you not to believe.”

His eyes flung out and he rested his thumb and forefinger on his chin, appraising the possibilities of your boss. “General Matika?”

You rolled your eyes. “Mason, I’m not telling you,” you sat back in your chair and crossed your arms.

“Hm,” he tapped his finger to his chin, “General _Hux_!” He shouted this.

Your head swiveled around you and your eyes shot daggers at him when he’d brought attention from bystanders. “Mason, _no_! Now shut _up_!” You smiled nervously at the startled onlookers.

“Sorry! Just one more guess, and it’s a joke, okay? I promise.” His eyes apologized to yours.

You rolled your eyes and looked at him expectantly, allowing him one last shot.

“Okay, okay. My final answer is…” he made an effort to lean as close to you as his chair would allow and gestured you forward.

You joined him in his huddle, smiling at his exaggerative performance.

He leaned right up against your ear and whispered, “ _Commander Ren_.”

His name sent chills down your spine. The coupling of the words sent memories flashing through you; pleading for him on your knees in the conference room floor, verbally spiting him after he’d made you choke on his cum. The words incited a mingling of anger and desire in your chest. You heard your breath catch and you felt your muscles lock in place.

Mason observed you for a moment, watching as you became a lifeless statue. You were vaguely aware of his own breath catching, realizing the truth behind your sudden inability to move. He had guessed correctly.

His eyes snaked in front of yours and looked at you with fear and pity. The silence felt cold around your once playful conference. He leaned away and you followed a few seconds after, looking back at him.

He sniffled and cleared his throat, dissipating the blaring quietness. “Well, that’s um – I can’t even lie, that fucking sucks.”

His blunt words bubbled a strained laugh in your throat. “Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged your shoulders. “But what can I do? Quit the most prestigious position I’ll probably ever have in my life, that I got _straight_ out of school? I’d make myself completely unemployable.”

He considered your words and let out a long sigh. “I mean, there has to be some good part of it, right? Like, I don’t know – name one thing that makes it worth it,” he prompted you.

You thought for a minute, thinking you’d come up blank. But, recounting your public panic attack last week, Robbie popped up in your mind. He was one thing, right? And maybe he didn’t make it _all_ better, but he did make it _tolerable_ , even within the few interactions you’d had.

“Well,” a smile surprised your lips, “there’s this… guy. I guess. I don’t know,” you were blushing. You hated it.

“Oh-ho-ho, is there _now_?” Mason slapped his knee and you hid your face under your hands. “Look at _you_! A natural player. Proud of you, my friend,” he gripped your shoulder congratulatorily.

You shook his hand off and looked up at him. “Gee, _thanks_. I learned from the best, didn’t I?” You referenced the multitudes of one night stands he’d had throughout college.

He threw his head back in laughter. _He was such a frat boy_. “I suppose you did,” he raised his eyebrows, remembering some of the standouts. “Now, tell me about this _guy_ , who do I need to beat up?”

Your nostrils let out a small hiss of air. “Hopefully nobody. You couldn’t take him, anyway. He’s one of Commander Ren’s men. Security stuff, you know,” you tried to play it down, avoiding the fact that Robbie was a storm trooper.

Mason sat back and smiled. “Nah, I trust you’d only let the worthiest of men into your life. I bet he’s a great guy.”

You inwardly shuddered at his phrasing. _Worthiest of men._ Men. More than one. And though you had thought about Robbie every now and then, remembering his sweet demeanor in your time of need, you had more often – too often – thought about Kylo Ren, pinning you against your shower wall and teasing you with his punishing intentions. Was Kylo Ren a worthy man? _Was Kylo Ren a man_? His naked body had done a lot for that argument, but it was still a valid question to hold. And lastly – had you _let_ him into your life, or had he _forced you_ into _his_?

Your phone rang, pulling you out of your head. You looked up to Mason, making sure it was okay. He held his hands out, saying it was fine and to go ahead.

You pulled it out of your pocket and saw it was an email from General Hux. _Oh God, what now_? You opened it and read:

_Officer, report to my office immediately; I need to discuss your assignment with you._

Mason noticed your stiffened shoulders. “Hey, what is it? Is everything okay?”

You barely heard him as you got up from your seat, ears muffled from the possibilities crashing against your skull. _He wouldn’t have reported you, right? He said he wouldn’t mention it if you did him a_ favor. But what was Kylo Ren’s word worth? It’s not like he valued your life, so why wouldn’t he report you? He had nothing to lose, and he didn’t care that you had everything on the line.

You limply hugged Mason goodbye as you trudged your way to the nearest elevators, body switching to autopilot as you made your way up to the Elite floor.

Hux was there to greet you. “Ah, the officer who’s been keeping me busy finally decided to show up,” he said this as if you’d spent two hours getting to him, when in reality it had been two minutes. “C’mon, then, no use in wasting any _more_ of my time,” he darted through the halls, prompting you to a light sprint to keep up with him.

His office was dead silent as you both sat there. He was analyzing you, watching you for any signs of something of which you were not aware. His face shriveled up and his tinny voice rang throughout the sterile room. “I’ll update you in a moment; how was your first week?” It may have been impossible, but he had managed to sound disinterested and overly invested all within one phrase.

You cleared your throat and swallowed. “It’s been good,” your mind flashed back to Kylo Ren forcing you to aspirate on scalding hot water, “nothing I can’t handle,” you ringed your hands around each other and darted your eyes around the room as you waited for Hux to reveal any sign of life.

His eyes narrowed slightly and his face came down to a disappointed line. “That’s good to know; Commander Ren has a tendency to,” he decided on his phrasing for a second too long, “impose fear in the faint of heart.”

You stilled every muscle in your face, not wanting to give anything away. “It’s a good thing Commander Ren picked such a resilient officer,” you said with a half-clenched jaw.

Hux’s face went back to its typical stoic form. “Yes, I suppose it is. Which brings me to the point of this meeting: Commander Ren.”

The air left your lungs. You’d heard those words from too many mouths today, and your body reacted to them like a trained dog. You straightened your spine and squared your shoulders. “Yes, sir. Has he complained about my performance?” The words were tinged with a double entendre.

“On the contrary, actually,” his eye twitched at his admission, “Commander Ren has requested that you accompany him in his travels between Starkiller Base and the Finalizer; he mentioned this would eliminate the need to hire a second care provider just for the Finalizer as he travels equally between both.”

You let the words sink in. You’d be traveling with Kylo Ren. Alone in the Command Shuttle. _Surely he was just trying to be cost effective_. You caught yourself before General Hux saw you roll your eyes. “And when does this go into effect, general?”

“The Command Shuttle will be returning at 0400 tomorrow morning and will be leaving again at 0500. You will need to be up here by 0430, Commander Ren does not like to be kept waiting,” Hux said with a knowing tone.

_Oh, trust me, I know_ , you thought to yourself as you stood to leave.

“One last thing, officer.”

You stilled and sat back down and watched as he slid a box toward you. “You will need to wear this at all times, per Commander Ren’s request.”

You took it in your hands and turned it over a few times before opening it. The box was pure black cobalt with a thin red outline of the frame. There was an engraved First Order crest on the clasp of the box. When you opened it, you found a square-faced watch of some sort. You popped the storage pillow out from under it and let it flow onto your hands, the smooth material of the band was like a ribbon of steel; delicate, yet indestructible. Your thumb grazed the screen, and it lit up; a radar popped up, showing nothing in your vicinity, at least nothing it was looking for, anyway. You turned it over; on the back was a red engravement of the symbol of the First Order. You looked closer, finding two letters, nearly imperceptible, laser-cut into the material:

_K.R._

You’d been admiring the piece of equipment for too long when General Hux cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ve been informed it is necessary to keep you updated with all last-minute flights and make you easily accessible to Commander Ren should he need your immediate medical assistance. It also allows you to call for emergency services if you ever need to.”

You looked between him and the technology for a moment, questions funneling into your brain. You remembered Kylo Ren briefly bringing up updating your assignment right before he’d left your bathroom. _Was he doing this for you or for him?_ Your thoughts resurfaced to the current situation: you were going to be living on the Finalizer now, too. “General Hux, what about all the logistics and details? I can’t be expected to pack up my life and –”

“I’ve also been informed to tell you that your living arrangement and other necessities,” he scanned down your casual outfit you’d worn to meet with Mason, “will be provided for you; all you need to do is show up on time.”

As he explained that you were basically getting a free ride for absolutely nothing, you remembered Mason’s rant about how wasteful and unfair it was for the Elite to form such a useless program just so the heads of the First Order could have access to hasty medical care, even when they didn’t need it. It was like you were a fire extinguisher; trapped in a glass box, waiting for the day you were useful to someone. _Maybe you’d get lucky and expire._

You thanked General Hux for his time, disregarding his expression of blatant _you don’t deserve this_ , and headed out into the main functioning area. You were so distracted by your new mandatory accessory, thinking about all the new ways Kylo Ren could abuse his power over you, that you barely noticed the storm trooper walking up to your side.

“Hey,” he said, startling you.

You jumped, dropping the watch, and looked up. _Robbie_. You smiled at the realization.

“Op, I got that for you,” and he dipped down to the floor and swiped up your new tracking device. He handed it to you, his white plastic armor was warm on his hand, your fingers lingered on his for a second, your eyes catching his visor.

You both started back in the direction of the elevators. “Hey, thanks,” you said back.

“What are you doin’ up here during normal human hours?” He joked.

“Just some work stuff – meeting with Hux, nothing too important.” You had reached the lobby. He pressed the down button for you.

“Oh, sorry. Nobody ever enjoys a meeting with Hux.”

“Yeah, well. I endure,” you thought about Hux’s multiple different sneers and cringed.

The doors flung open and you went to enter them, but Robbie flung out his arm and blocked your path. You stumbled back and looked at him in alarmed confusion.

He cleared his throat through his mask. “I’m sorry, I was just wondering,” he took a moment to center his hidden gaze on your eyes, “are you doing anything tonight?”

The question sent butterflies through your bloodstream. You half melted before you realized you hadn’t said anything, leaving him in an agonizingly long state of limbo.

“Oh, um, no. No, I’m free tonight,” you stuttered out as the elevator closed behind him.

He let his arm down. “Well, uh, do you want to get drinks, or something?” He crossed his arms.

You forced down a face-splitting smile. “Um, yeah. I’d lo – like that. I’d _like_ that,” your cheeks pinked at your near accidental admission.

He chuckled at your awkwardness, your eyes darting around the room. “Alright. I’ll pick you up around, say, 2100?”

Your eyes settled back on his visor. “Yeah. 2100 is good,” you bit your lip and smiled.

He leaned in front of you, pressing the down button once again. “I’ll see you then, I guess,” and he walked out of the lobby.

You stepped into the elevators and waited for the doors to shut, hoping nobody would join you on your ride. You waited until you felt the cart falling, and then you exploded into a juvenile cloud of giggling and squealing. You refrained from hopping, safeguarding against plummeting to your death before you could go out on your date. You dragged your fingers down your face and held your cheeks, warm from the sudden rush of adrenaline. _He_ asked _you_ on a date. _A date_.

The elevator hit the bottom floor and you booked it to your room, flying past startled faces on your way.

As soon as you got through your door, you shot your eyes towards the nearest clock.

_1600_. You had four and a half hours until you got to have intimate contact with a man other than Kylo Ren for the first time in months. _And you were absolutely ecstatic._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, alas. No Kylo this week. But kind of, a little bit, in a way. I promise he'll show up next week. Are y'all surprised I didn't forget about Mason? 
> 
> Okay, let me know what you think of the story so far. Things will start picking up a little bit once we're on the Finalizer so just hold on.
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> \- ST


	6. Robbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your date didn't go as expected, and apparently Kylo Ren is just as displeased about it as you are.

_And they kissed and the rest was history._

Well, not exactly. Actually – not remotely close.

It was time for your first trip on the Command Shuttle. You had arrived by the ship’s entrance at 0430, just as Hux had instructed you. The free time you had while waiting for Commander Ren gave you the unwanted ability to recount your date.

Last night at 2100 you were getting ready to go out with a sweet guy named Robbie; the guy who had planted butterflies in your stomach just hours prior. The same guy who came to your valiant rescue during your first shift assigned to Kylo Ren. You were excited to meet the man you had humanized with a name, something nobody else had given him. Yes, you were preparing to finally see the face of the kind man who you said made all of Kylo Ren’s torture – in your own words – _worth it_.

That’s the thing about masks: they tend to hide the truth. Masks allow the imagination to see only what it wants, and never anything it didn’t fully desire. It wasn’t the fact that Robbie wasn’t handsome; no, he was six feet of trim muscle topped with tight dirty blonde curls and clear grey eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but what made remembering the date such a vomit-inducing trial was how you _felt_ when you were around him.

It had been a completely different story when he’d had his suit on, when he’d been concealing himself underneath his assigned position. When he was in his suit, it’s like he was a different person, a person you had come to grow quite fond of in a short period of time. But the man you met last night stripped every redeeming quality of Robbie away, practically taking with him the title you had gifted him. _Robbie_ was who asked you out for drinks. RB – 6745 was _what_ you ended up meeting.

Maybe it was your fault; after all, you were the one who had tried to make the puppet into a real boy. You were the one who gave him a name, essentially giving him a reason outside of the First Order to live. Yes, you decided you were partially to blame for trying to make something into what it was never meant to be, no matter how badly you may have wanted it.

Your skin crawled as you remembered him showing up at your quarters, which you had never told him the location of. _Oh, well it’s public record for all the workers on the Elite floor_ , he had tried to play it off. That was when you should’ve said you had to stay home; that could’ve spared you the next two hours of the wretched, agonizing uneasiness he incited in your gut. But you decided that maybe he was telling the truth and you just didn’t know enough about it. So, instead of trusting yourself, you gave him another chance.

He took you to the dingiest run-down bar that had to have existed on Starkiller Base. It was empty aside from you two and a few day-shift workers blowing off steam – old men who had nothing to look forward to when they went home. The air was full of dust motes and cigarette smoke, filling your nose with the scent of mildew and old pleather. The seats were covered in duct tape and the tables were covered in something you’d rather not think about. He sat you in a corner booth, the lack of light nearly blinding you of anything in the room but him. You kept ignoring the screaming in your veins saying _get the_ hell _out of here_! You wanted to give him a fair shot, and maybe this was just some place he enjoyed coming, a hidden treasure – _just like him_ , you’d wanted to believe.

But the atmosphere was hardly the worst part. He had you trapped between him and the wall, forcing himself as close to you as possible, nearly hopping into your lap. His skin had remnants of sweat on it, his clothes smelled like rust – most likely due to the less than standardized water provided to the lower officers of the First Order – creating a faux odor of stale blood. His face was inches from yours, your expression stark with discomfort, and it seemed as if he didn’t possess the ability to blink. You tried to nonchalantly create distance between the two of you, putting your purse next you, only for him to fling it into your lap and replace its presence with his own hand, clammy and unwelcome, high on your thigh, encouraging the hair on the back of your neck to stand stick-straight with hot fear.

Even though you could barely hear him over his unbidden touch, he ranted to you about his job for thirty minutes straight, never allowing you to interject between phrases – he never learned that you agreed that Kylo Ren was an impersonal dick who you were forced to work with. No, you barely even got two sentences in during the time you’d spent in that bar, watching him as he drowned himself in cheap, watered-down booze.

You observed him with internalized horror as he slammed beer after beer, the bartender finally cutting him off after he’d slurred his order for his seventh. This was someone who never learned self-control; this was someone who didn’t respect themselves, someone who could never, consequently, respect you, either. Eventually, taking your pipedream of destructed hopes with you, you left him there. You weren’t even sure he noticed when you physically scooted over his lap and left the booth, looking back to find his body slumped into the wall you had just escaped.

The sound of Kylo Ren’s altered voice commanding your name pulled you out of your deep, unwelcome flashback. Gasping, you spun, finding he had already passed onto the Command Shuttle.

He was watching you from the top of the ramp, you felt it; the power of his gaze was barely hindered by his helmet. _Geez, what is it with you and guys with masks_? Despite the fact it would make you seem even more curious to him, you gave into your anxious compulsion to spin your head around, looking out to all corners of the functional area, scanning for any sign of Robbie. Your shoulders relaxed when you realized Kylo hadn’t had his usual escorts with him. You spun once more, finding Kylo still staring you down. You swallowed and ducked your head, not wanting to give him more insight into your current state of mind than you already had.

“Commander Ren,” you greeted him as you passed onto the Command Shuttle.

As you walked through the threshold, you felt his eyes follow your path. “Nice to see you on time,” he paused, “officer.”

You looked around at the interior of the ship. It was mostly black – the seating, the walls, the floor – with red accents in its details. The windshield cast a crimson light throughout the entire space. Looking up, you found the ceiling trimmed with a dim ruby glow, emanating from hidden track lights. The addition of the red seemed to add a small touch of warmth to the otherwise stark, lifeless black with which you were surrounded. You spied two chairs at the head of the ship, _the pilot and his co-pilot_. You figured it would be best for you to sit in one of the seats lining the walls of the Shuttle, desperately trying to reduce the chance of any interaction with Kylo Ren. You didn’t feel like want to exacerbate any further desire of his to kill you.

You pointed your feet towards the far corner of the ship, making a B-line for the seat that would grant the most distance between your _master_ and you. You tried to, at least.

“The cockpit is in the other direction, or do I need to have RB – 6745 come and escort you himself?” His words stilled you. You felt your heart drop, the simple thought of him being in your vicinity made you dizzy.

You turned and headed back to the head of the ship, not wanting to indulge him in whatever scheme he was hiding behind his words. “No, sir, that won’t be necessary,” you said, eyes nailed to the floor.

His hand reached out and blocked your path. “You’re being exceptionally _professional_ , officer. I presume you took our lesson to heart,” his modulated voice sent vibrations through his hand and into your chest.

Your heart picked up its pace, but you kept your breathing steady. You finally stopped analyzing the floor and looked into his visor. “Yes, sir. Your instruction was very enlightening. Thank you,” you kept your face flat and started towards the bow of the ship once more. His arm barely twitched from your attempt to walk through it.

“No,” his hand snaked up to your throat, angling your head so he could search your eyes, “this is something else. One stolen release would never be enough to solidify your obedience,” his voice was slow, like dripping black paint.

 _One stolen release_. Your thighs pressed together as he referenced the occurrence. _He hadn’t forgotten either._ You had run through its entirety hundreds of times since; it was the first and last thought you’d had every day since.

He twitched two fingers of his other hand and the hatch to the Command Shuttle began its ascent to closure. Your eyes never left his gaze as you heard the pressure release from the hydraulics in the lifts, listening until all the light from the Elite floor had funneled out of view, drenching both of you in crimson darkness. His head tilted slightly, contemplating, trying to read your mind. _Wait_.

Your eyes went wide as you remembered the whispers of his ability to read thoughts. Your breath caught against your will, alerting him to the imminent concern for your privacy. “Can you, are you read –”

“You would know if I were reading your thoughts,” he informed you with slow words. “But, yes, I could if I wanted to.” His hand shifted to cradle your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. “You should be more concerned with the energy you’re sending off around you,” his head leaned back slightly, still examining you, “it’s like you’re running – hiding – from someone, something.”

You clenched your jaw in his hand. “Maybe it’s because my boss is being weird. Have you thought of that?”

He released a long drawn out breath. “No, it’s something else. I could sense your energy from across the floor; something has you worried, and it’s not me, no matter how much you may want it to be,” the truth in his words brought a sense of defeat with them.

He knew that you wanted to hate him, but he also knew, infuriatingly, how impossible it had been for you to try and do just that. It was like he had won at a game you didn’t even know you were participating in. You sucked in a breath through your nose, eyes falling to the muzzle of his helmet.

“That’s right,” his voice picked up a thick sense of pomp and sly, “I can _feel_ the conflict in you; half of you digging your heels into the ground, desperately trying to bury what you feel, even right now” he began walking you back into the wall, hand falling down to your shoulder, “the other half _screaming_ at you, begging you to give in to what you want,” his voice was low as your back made contact with the metal paneling of the Command Shuttle.

Your chin lifted, following your eyes as they narrowed towards his visor. “Well, Commander,” you began, tone challenging, “why don’t you fill me in on what it is _I’m_ feeling that’s got me _so_ worried?”

His head swayed to the side again, clueing you into his appraisal once more. “I don’t know, but if you don’t snap out of it, I’ve got no promises for how this flight will go. You’re quite the distraction, no matter how hard you’re trying to control yourself,” you felt his eyes lock back into yours.

You stared into his visor, your throat narrowing, filling with the need for release with every second he held you there. He enjoyed making you squirm, learning exactly which of your buttons to press. He looked you up and down one last time, and then removed his hand from your shoulder, turning towards the cockpit.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to shudder in the forgiving red-tinged dusk the Command Shuttle provided. You were entirely defenseless against him. For God’s sake he could _feel_ you come undone by just the thought of his touch. _He could also feel the residual disgust Robbie had left with you last night_. A part of you found solace with the knowledge that you’d know if he were in your head – whatever that meant, anyway.

Slowly, you snuck to the control center, hyperaware that he could sense you. You sat down, tightening the fasteners across your lap and over your chest. You watched as Kylo Ren shifted a gear and pressed a code of buttons, feeling the ship’s engines roar to life under your feet, shaking your vision. You shut your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself, fearing the impending take-off.

“Open your eyes,” Kylo said with his back to you. “That’s an order.”

Obeying his command, you rolled them open, annoyed that he was so attuned to your mannerisms. “Yes, sir,” your voice had a bit of an edge to it, hoping he could sense that too.

With one last flip of a switch the ship flew forward, leaving Starkiller in its dust. The floor of the base faded from view as the windshield propelled into the atmosphere. It was exhilarating; the stars racing in front of you, other planets slowly fading into view as the one you had left fell into darkness. You let out an unintentional laugh, letting in the feeling of childish glee radiating through you until the stars slowed to an unmoving pace. As soon as you could, you undid your safety restraints and ran to the glass of the windshield, placing your hands on it as if they could reach out and touch the galaxy around you.

You shifted to cradle your head in your hand and rest your elbow on your other. “ _It’s so beautiful_ ,” you whispered to yourself, completely enthralled by the immensity of space.

You saw Kylo out of the corner of your eye, watching you yet again. You were aware of his hands lifting to his helmet, reaching to undo the locks of his helmet, placing it in his chair as he stood.

“Now,” he said, lilting over to you, sweeping your hair from your shoulder, “are you going to tell me what’s got you twisted in knots, or am I going to have to go digging for it?” His lips pressed against your ear; your eyes closed in indignant desire.

You swallowed, attempting to blanch his effect on your body. “Since you seem to know me so well, shouldn’t you be able to _sense_ my answer to that, Commander?” You knew your tone was wearing his patience thinner with each word, and you loved it.

“You’re onto something, you know,” and he spun you, the Force pinning your shoulders into the glass.

You could breathe, but the pressure was compressing your chest, restraining any movement. His unhidden eyes bore down into yours, sending you swimming. You admired how the red light of the glass made the auburn even richer. Your jaw went slack and his lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

He hummed for a second, eyes dancing over your features. “What is it you nurses say?” He lifted his hand and held it open next to your face. “You’re gonna feel a little pinch,” his tone was a mixture of mockery and sarcasm.

His eyes were centered on yours, digging into you once again, and then his fingers twitched, causing you to convulse under the Force. _Fuck_. Your head was exploding. He had surely cracked it open, your thoughts bleeding out onto him. You heard nonsensical voices pass through your ears – _Kylo Ren talking to you about promises, Robbie comforting you through your panic, Robbie asking you out, you squealing in the elevator, the bartender informing Robbie he was cut off_. You felt things like they were happening for the first time all over again – _Robbie’s hands on your shoulders, the tears streaming down your face in the swarm of your panic, the dread you felt if your Commander had been hurt and you hadn’t been there, the boiling water filling up your lungs, the strain of Kylo Ren’s cock breaking your jaw open, the confusion you felt towards Kylo’s emotions_. And then he got to what he’d sensed when he’d walked in, _your date_.

Your skin was burning, your teeth clenched, your ears ringing as he continued to pry into your memories. You felt all of that gross, seeping dread you’d been avoiding all over again as he pulled the memories to the front of your consciousness. Your stomach churned as he made you endure it once more – _Robbie showing up to your door when you’d never told him where you lived, walking into the worn out bar, your lungs filling with the scent of unfulfilled dreams and mildew covered counters, Robbie squishing you into the corner, the wall growing slippery against your uncomfortable skin, Robbie’s unwanted advances, his complaints of Kylo Ren, his descent into liver damage_. You swore your heart had stopped beating by the time Kylo retracted his claws from your brain.

You filled your starved lungs with the sweet release of oxygen as your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled onto the floor, your head falling back against the wall, your arms limp at your sides. The cool air of the Command Shuttle made you aware of the sudden wetness of your cheeks. You were crying. As your ears rang back into reality, you became aware of your heaving chest. _You were sobbing_.

You opened your eyes to find Kylo’s boots still planted in front of you. You followed them up his legs, past his shoulders, and up to his face, where you found his eyes; no longer that sweet auburn, but instead a dark, unforgiving black. You couldn’t read him; his face offered no insight to the innerworkings of his current thinking. You briefly thought about how much more useful it would be if _you_ were the one who could dig through _his_ memories.

You wiped your cheeks with the backs of your hands and got ready to collect yourself from the ground, but before you could press your hands to the floor, Kylo Ren ripped his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it into terrorizing red flames.

You scooted into the far corner, your fight or flight kicking in to try and save you from the cruel altered weapon. “What the _fuck_?” you shouted, barely audible over the weapon’s roaring vibrations.

He captured your gaze and swung the weapon over his head in a wide arch, stabbing it into the co-pilot’s chair. He did this again, and again, and again, until the only thing left was the floating fuzz it left in its wake. Your nose filled with the scent of burning leather and melting plastic. His chest was cycling in rapid waves, and he looked to you again, his eyes back to that infuriating impassive glare. He disengaged his weapon and placed it back on his hip. You stared at him in disbelieving horror, not knowing entirely what had possessed him to decimate the interior of his ship.

You stood up from the floor and barreled toward him. “What is it with you and nearly _killing_ me? Is it fun? Treating my life like it’s some toy? Did you find what you were looking for, you sick bas –”

“ _Robbie_ ,” he gripped both of your shoulders, leaving bruises under his thumbs. “The last time I checked, his _name_ was RB – 6745, and he works – _worked_ – for me,” his voice was darker than you’d heard before, giving away the wrath building inside him.

You dug your nails into his gloved hands, trying to unhinge his fingers; of course, no such luck. “No. No, _you_ don’t get to ask me questions. You should’ve gotten _all_ you needed while you cracked my head in half,” you tried stomping onto his foot, but only ended up with shooting pain up your leg, a result from metal-tipped boots bruising the arch of your foot. “Ah, _fuck_ , God I _hate you_. Fuck!” You whined as he held you there.

Before you could register, his mouth was on yours, his tongue passing over your teeth. His hands left your shoulders and cupped either side of your face as he rushed you back into the glass, pressing you into it with his body. You lifted your hands and dug your fingers into his thick black curls, nails slicing into his scalp, drawing a wince from him.

You felt as he grew harder the further he pushed you into the glass, making you gasp at the thought of him finally giving you what he’d stolen a week prior. You hitched one of your legs onto his hips and he grunted, one of his hands snaking down the curves of your side, lifting your other thigh into the air. You pulled yourself up with the leverage from his shoulders. He was cradling your thighs now, pressing you against the wall with just his strength.

His mouth moved down to your jawline, allowing you to breathe in welcomed oxygen. “You’re so fucking confusing,” you panted out, letting your head fall back onto the glass.

He left your jaw and pressed his forehead against yours, piercing your eyes with his glare, his hands leaving your thighs and smoothing up your curves, supporting you with sheer pressure. “Do you ever stop fucking _talking_?” His breath was deep and fast.

At this, you lunged your head forward, pulling his mouth back to yours, your hands massaging into his hair, his hands falling back to support you. He momentarily removed one of his grips from your thighs to release his length from the confines of his layers. You felt secure enough to remove your hands from his neck and started working on pulling your pants down.

He hummed into your neck. “The desperate slut’s in a rush.”

“And the sick fuck isn’t capable of satisfying me fast enough,” you rolled your eyes.

His eyes shot up to you, revealing the thrill of your challenge behind them, and his mouth twisted into a dark, dark smile just before pressing his lips to yours, an urgent need buzzing between you.

“Tell me,” you felt the head of his erection skim past your clit and angle at the entrance to your core, “is this _satisfying_ enough for you?” He drove his full length into you in one, agonizing, leg-splitting thrust.

Your breath caught in your throat as your body broke in half from his massive size. “ _Shit_ ,” you seethed, “fucking asshole,” you said at a pitch indicative of your pain.

He hissed as he pulled back before picking up his rhythm, slamming into you, causing your head to bob against the wall in the same tempo. “That mouth of yours causes you more trouble than good,” his head fell between your shoulder and your neck, biting down into the clothed skin of your shoulder.

You winced under his teeth. Your arms circled his neck, smothering him to you. You heard his muffled groan as you buried your nose in his hair, reveling in his scent.

He was driving into you harder with every thrust, your clit yearning for attention. “Maybe you’re unaware,” you hiccupped through his violent thrusts, “but if you want to _satisfy_ me, you have to try harder than that.”

He forced your hands off from around his neck so he could glare into your eyes, accepting your challenge. He didn’t move his hands from your hips, dragging them towards him with every malicious thrust of his hips, but then, suddenly, you felt it: a swirling pressure dancing around your clit. Your head bowed into his shoulder. “ _Fuck, Ky – Commander, I_ –” you moaned out, pleasure rendering you speechless as the Force rocketed you towards sweet release.

Kylo continued to pound into you, his hips smacking yours in a lewd, wet rhythm, making you groan at the sound. You could feel his breathing coming erratically at your neck, evidence of his building release. You leaned further into his shoulder, and you took his lead, biting into his as he had yours.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, “crazy bitch.” He quickened his pace, both his hips and the Force on your clit, forcing a moan from your throat.

You were on the edge, just waiting to be pushed over. “I – I’m going to –” you said as Kylo leaned in and licked a slow trail up your neck and to your ear.

His lips pressed directly to your lobe, his nose nestling into the oversensitive skin. “Then cum for me, little slut. Cum for your _master_ ,” he whispered, catapulting you into your release.

You moaned into his ear as you fell into euphoria. Your body was unraveling under his pressure, your nerves lighting up like fireworks as he thrust you through the aftershocks of the descent from the ecstasy he had founded in you. Through your own state of sense-depraving rapture, you vaguely regarded his own release, which he welcomed with a feral moan, coming from the depths of his throat. It sent light vibrations through you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, catching his breath back to reality.

As you both came down, you reveled in the afterglow. The closeness felt from the weight and heat of his head on your chest, the sudden awareness of your quivering legs still held in his grip, the feel of his sweat-laden hair at the base of his neck twisting between your fingers. Eventually he lifted his head from you and dropped your legs one by one back to the floor. His gaze found you once again, and you dove straight into the depths of his auburn irises, now suffocating under the black pools of his pupils. One of his hands lifted back up to your face, clearing your forehead of sweat-soaked fly-aways. There was something hidden behind his eyes. It wasn’t anger, to your surprise. It was something softer than his usual intimidating presence; it felt like he was searching you for some truth he hadn’t considered.

 _Why did he have to be so confusing_?

“I know you’ve been waiting for that since last week,” his eyes danced over your blushing cheeks. “Was it all you’d imagined… and imagined, and imagined –” he teased you.

You clicked your tongue and lightly swatted his chest. “Okay, I liked you better when you weren’t talking,” you laughed with him as he joked about being able to sense your desperation for him.

He took the pressure from your chest away and you walked back to the destroyed pilot’s seat, briefly regarding how you’d nearly forgotten his frightening outburst that lead to your hate-fucking. “Well, I’d hate to be the person tasked with fixing all of this,” your eyes followed the red-glowing proof of his earlier rage, your hands fixing the ties of your pants simultaneously.

Kylo took the Pilot’s seat once more, placing his helmet back on his shoulders. You examined him as his gloved fingers seemed so masterful with the knowledge of the controls, distantly thinking about _other_ _things_ they were masterful with.

“Need I remind you again how distracting your desperation is?” He said, visor focused on the radar in front of him.

Your cheeks pinked as you made your way to one of the seats on the wall. You looked down to your watch as it lit up, a banner reading across the screen:

_FINALIZER: ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: FIVE MINUTES._

As indicated, the Finalizer came into view, its immensity overwhelming you. Kylo landed the Command Shuttle in the docking bay, turning to you after disengaging the engines.

You stood as he made his way towards the descending ramp, looking into his visor expectantly.

“Welcome to the Finalizer, officer,” the edge in his voice sent a trill of excitement through you, and he quickly flooded out of the ship, robes dramatically flowing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader-chan finally got her release after six chapters! YAY! Also yay is the fact that it is Finalizer time baby! Uh, I am so excited to see where this all goes!


	7. Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You explore a bit of the Finalizer and meet a new friend along the way.

You watched as Kylo Ren strolled through and out of the docking bay of the Finalizer, his presence leaving an eerie trail of silence as his boots echoed out of sight. _Fuck_. He could sense you watching him. Were you ever going to get used to that?

You shook your head and squared your shoulders as you made your way down the ramp of the Command Shuttle. Descending into the vast area, it set in how truly enormous the Finalizer was; the height was nearly twice that of Starkiller, the entire ship had to house at least a few thousand workers and ranking officers. There were engineers bubbling about as you stepped off, running diagnostics and doing post-flight checks. You had an enormous respect for those who were stationed permanently on the Finalizer; in many ways, that meant they were at the very top of their practice.

And then there _you_ were, amidst these insanely skilled individuals who had worked years for their positions, understanding completely that your only purpose being among them was to cater to Kylo Ren’s nonexistent need for emergency medical care. You felt a sense of defeat and shame walking towards the administrator’s office, avoiding eye contact with any of the esteemed members of the First Order. You deemed yourself a fraud in their company, knowing they believed you were of their same caliper.

The doors to the bustling department slid open at your proximity and you walked up to one of the shorter lines moving towards the service counter. You watched as a wide variety of professionals attended to their business, noting at least five different practices around you. It seemed so much more inclusive and global than Starkiller; it made you feel small, knowing just how out of your league you were, no matter the disguise your job title provided you.

The line moved up one by one as people filtered through the buzzing section of the Finalizer, finally reaching you after a long, monotonous wait. You reached up to grab your badge from your collar as you approached the window. “Hey, how are you today?”

“Name and position,” the clerk rolled off, not bothering to look at your eyes and going straight to your badge.

Your ears pinked at their helices, realizing your attempt at human decency meant nothing to the woman behind the window. “Oh, um,” you said your name in loud, over pronounced syllables, “Commander Ren’s care provider.”

The worker perked up then, and the room seemed to quiet at the revelation of your title. The blood in your ears lurched down to your neck, every pair of eyes in the room falling onto your shoulders.

“Oh!” The worker straightened her back and painted an eye-crinkling smile on her face. “Of course! I knew you would be arriving, just not this early!” She quickly scanned your badge and watched as your files pulled up on her computer. She swiped her screen an uncountable number of times, making you feel even more hyperaware of how your position marked you in other’s eyes. Your shoulders shrank into yourself as she bent down to pull something from the hidden drawers below her. “Alright, here you go,” she said as she fumbled with a lanyard with a keycard attached at the clasp and passed it through the correspondence box to the side.

You hesitantly took it from the clear drawer and turned it over with your fingers. It had the same designs as the box your watch had come in; a black base with a red framing border and a First Order symbol in the center. You flipped it to its other side to search for the more indicative feature that was also etched into the base of your watch, finding it quickly: Kylo Ren’s initials inscribed in red, nearly imperceptible at the top corner of the card. This time, though, you found your initials etched directly under his – the first tangible acknowledgement of your existence that you’d received from the First Order.

You looked up, noting several heads swiveling away from you, trying to hide their curiosity for your obscure room key. You cleared your throat, feeling the burn of blood in your cheeks, and made contact with the clerk once more. “Is there anything else?” You made an effort to keep your voice steady and low.

The woman shot you another face-splitting smile. “No, ma’am! That’s all. Have a nice day!” Her voice was borderline patronizing, making you feel even more like an outsider.

You nodded at her and gave her a weak, unenthusiastic goodbye, scuttering out of the room as fast as you could, the eyes of countless onlookers following you – or the badge in your hand – as you made your way towards the docking bay lobby. You welcomed in a long-awaited deep breath as you began your journey through the labyrinth of hallways the Finalizer presented, feeling insecure in your navigating abilities on such an intimidating vessel. Eventually, you wandered into an open area – black obsidian tiles from floor to ceiling – and approached an elevator that resembled the features of your new keycard.

You noted there was a badge scanner to the left of the of the apparatus, scrawling the words _PRIVATE ACCESS ONLY_ across its small screen. Slowly, you brought your new ID up to the scanner, doubting its ability, and the tiny box chimed out a high-pitched beep, initiating the doors to glide open with less than a whisper of sound. You lurched your head over your shoulders, looking for any suspicious eyes, feeling like you were partaking in some illegal activity you weren’t aware of. You stepped forward past the threshold and your eyes followed the continuity of that same dark mirroring stone from the room before, allowing you to take in your appearance.

You hadn’t considered the fact that Kylo Ren had just hate fucked you into submission less than an hour ago. Your hair was more voluminous than normal, evidence of your head rubbing against the now-smudged glass of the Command Shuttle due to his relentless strokes. Your name badge was half-crooked on your collar, and one of your pant legs was hiked slightly higher than the other. Maybe the onlookers hadn’t been concerned with your job title; maybe they were just confused as to how some space hermit had somehow gotten past security.

The doors slid open before you could find any further flaws in your outward appearance, opening to a grand foyer. The floor was different from the obsidian, instead flooding into an expanse of dark grey concrete, fluid throughout the entire space – at least as far as you could see, anyway. You walked forward into the impressive room, peaking around and spinning to take it all in. The elevator hadn’t taken you to a floor with visitor quarters for temporary personnel; no, the room you had stepped into had unfolded into a fully furnished living room. You narrowed your eyes, confused as to where you were, assuming you had wandered somewhere that was definitely not intended for you; the ID scanner had somehow malfunctioned and you had ended up in some high-ranking member of the First Order’s quarters, entirely displaced and disoriented.

You turned, moving to head back into the elevator until you realized it had already closed. You brought your badge back up, moving to scan it again, but instead choosing to analyze it once more. You turned it over, focusing your thoughts on the initials – both his _and_ yours – in the corner, remembering the awe-struck eyes of the administrator’s office darting towards the small metal card you had been gifted. You looked up at your surroundings once more, further taking in the details of the impressive space – noting the muted reds of the doors, the dimly lit concrete walls, the impossibly tall ceilings – and all the blood that had collected in your head from the lingering, horror-filled stares fled from your face, leaving you pale and dizzy.

You were living in Kylo Ren’s quarters.

 _Are you fucking_ kidding _me_? You thought as the lanyard and keycard slipped out of your hand and onto the hard concrete beneath your feet. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath, anticipating steam to huff out of your nose as. Was his every goal aimed towards making your life nearly intolerable? First, he says _you fascinate me_ , then he tries to fucking _drown_ you, and – to top it all off – he confuses you even further by having a conniption over _your_ bad date which nothing to do with him, nearly killing you a _second_ time. And now he expects you to _live_ with him?

“ _God_!” You exclaimed while dragging your fingers down your face. You stood in place for a second, contemplating if jumping out into space would provide a more comforting atmosphere than sharing a fridge with Kylo Ren for the foreseeable future.

You ran your fingers through your hair and flattened your scrubs, exasperated by the seemingly endlessly growing pile of trials Kylo Ren was racking you with. You set a hand on one of your hips and looked around, chewing your bottom lip. _It couldn’t hurt to just look_.

“Well, if I’m supposed to live here,” you said to yourself, inwardly seething, “I guess I should get a feel for where everything is,” you knelt down to pick up your keycard.

You made your way further into what was furnished as a living space, two long black leather couches mirroring each other at the center of the room. As you walked further into the grand space, a kitchen came into sight, an island the size of a conference table set in the focal point of the room, white marble countertops adding a stark contrast to every other fixture of the excessive room. You ran your fingers over the cold leather of one of the couches as you meandered towards the kitchen; the fridge was stocked to the brim, the dark cabinets holding the nicest dishes you’d seen in any First Order facility. Your mouth fell open in a small, unintentional gape, mesmerized by the luxury surrounding you.

You turned to brush the counters with your fingertips, something glittering across the room catching your eye. Your eyes lingered over towards the object, causing you to exaggeratively blink as if to make sure it wasn’t an illusion. Before you, a maroon grand piano sat in the far corner of the open expanse, glinting off the light of the stars streaming through the wall of clear glass it was placed in front of. You were vaguely aware of your gasp as your feet unconsciously carried you towards the beautiful object. You reached up to touch it, halting your hand just millimeters from the glossy crimson finish, not wanting to defile its beguiling appearance. Instead you settled on fluttering your eyes over the black details of the keys and the pedals, the bench covered in tufted black leather.

Your eyes reluctantly left the instrument as you turned to stare out into the expansive view of the galaxy through the endless wall of unperforated glass, revealing collections of faraway stars. A small, distant part of you was still cursing Kylo Ren for forcing you to live with him, but the rest of you was too lost in the luxury of the excess of your surroundings, feeling completely out of place even as you stood in the currently vacated apartment.

A couple minutes had passed since you had stepped into the quarters, and you felt the need to go looking for your _own_ room, feeling a small, shame-filled sense of excitement at what might lie behind the door. In front of the couches, a small corridor contained two doors; you were surprised to see that the one intended for you contained an engraved plaque to the side of it, scrawling your name in that same black obsidian from below. You scanned your badge across the handle and it slid open.

The room was unimpressive and impersonal, like it had been built as an unforeseen add on at the last minute; it was small, but still bigger than yours on Starkiller. The concrete from the great room continued into it, creating a cold atmosphere from the lack of warmth-holding fibers. The walls were tall and light grey, leading up to a band of lighting that wrapped around the whole room intended to simulate the sun at whatever time of day it currently was; it was dim at the moment, keeping true with the 0700 on your watch.

You approached the bed, noting the black sheets below the white comforter. You found a sealed envelope on the side table, addressed to you in black typed font. You ran your finger under the wax seal and popped it open to find an official letter from the first order. You sat back on the bed as you read it:

_Dear addressee,_

_The First Order hopes this letter finds you well. You are aware that you have been selected for a unique position as a care provider for one of the highest-ranking members of the First Order. With such a high honor comes an equally sized responsibility to ensure the safety and health of your assigned master._

_In an effort to decrease the costs of implementing this prestigious program, the First Order has deemed it not only appropriate but necessary for assigned care givers to live in close proximity with their superior officer; this allows a decrease in delayed emergency medical care and an increase in moral within the relationship of trust and respect between the master and his or her assigned healthcare professional._

_Enjoy the provided quarters and clothing as an appreciated and essential member of the First Order._

_Respectfully,_

_Supreme Leader Snoke_

You curled the corners of the letter between your fingers, tracing over the signature under Snoke’s name, unsurprisingly finding it automated and printed. There was a very high possibility he had no idea these letters were sent out – or that you even existed. The Supreme Leader had bigger things to think about than who was boarding with his esteemed officers. Folding the letter and placing it back in its envelope, you turned it over in your hands to reveal a slanted and peaked handwriting on the back; you held it closer to your face, leaning in to decipher the intricate script before you. It began with your last name scrawled out in delicate letters:

_I hope you find the watch useful in keeping up with the time, as this has proven a difficult task for you. You are to report back to these quarters by 2200 every night that is not indicated for travel._

_Welcome to the neighborhood, officer,_

_K.R._

You lightly feathered your fingers over the thick paper of the envelope, feeling the deep indents of the words, proof that Kylo Ren had spent a small fragment of time penning the words beneath your digits. Your heart slightly fluttered at this thought, no matter the slight dig that his words hid within them.

You spent a few minutes just sitting there on your bed, in your room, in Kylo Ren’s quarters. Every part of your life was so bizarre now, and all of it was his doing. You knew that he was the Commander of the First Order and that he obviously, evidenced by his recent actions, didn’t value your life as anything important, but you also knew that he didn’t have to take the time to welcome you – twice, now – but he had chosen to, anyway. Your cheeks pinked slightly as you remembered how he made you feel when his hands touched your skin; gloved or not, ill intent or not. There was some incorrigible fragment of you that was intrigued by him, a part of you that craved even the thought of his hands on your skin.

You sighed as you placed the letter in the drawer of your nightstand, aware of the brightening of the room around you. You looked down to your watch. _0730_. You needed to get down to the med bay to assess what you had to work with. Mason’s words about the excessive spending of the heads of the First Order rang in the back of your mind as you walked over to the closed wardrobe, your heart falling as you thought of that masterful instrument just outside of your new room. You disregarded the twinge of guilt you felt for admiring your new living situation as you opened the doors to see what the First Order had provided to clothe you.

You stood in front of seven black scrub dresses. You furiously flipped through the hangers, trying to find any form of pants that may have been hidden between the seemingly too short uniforms. You closed your eyes and softly banged your head against the wardrobe doors as it set in that this was your only option – you were informed not to pack anything from Starkiller; you had no choice but to wear the cursed article of clothing that was a scrub dress.

Reluctantly, you tore one from the rack, holding it out in front of you. Your eyes were drawn to the red embroidery on the left breast of the dress: your first initial was followed by your last name, below it reading:

_First Order Care Provider, Commander Ren_

You slightly shuttered at this; the keycard and the watch had been different stories. At least with those, any claim he had of you was slight and hidden from the public; this was a blatant show of ownership – a silent branding. Wherever you went, at least on the Finalizer, everyone would know exactly who you worked for. Your guts twisted at the thought of all the unwarranted stares your new uniform would brandish, ones filled with equal parts pity and terror.

You slid out of your Starkiller scrubs, your legs biting at the stark drop in temperature as you shucked them onto the floor and pulled the dress up over your hips. You buttoned up the top half and walked over to a wall containing a floor-to-ceiling mirror. You nervously smoothed over the hips of the dress, feeling overexposed in the foreign uniform; you hadn’t worn a scrub dress since your pinning ceremony before graduation, and never one constructed of jet-black fabric. It fell just at the middle of your thighs, making you hyperaware of the exposed flesh of your legs. You mussed with your hair, trying to find a way to hide the red lettering on your chest that marked you apart from normal society.

After a while you got frustrated and left the room, closing the door behind you. You leaned back onto it and ran your fingers through your hair. Every part of this assignment was picking you apart piece by piece, showing no sign of stopping any time soon. You opened your eyes and they focused on the door directly across from yours. It didn’t have a name tag, its tenant quite obvious without one. You peaked over your shoulder to test if the elevator were about to swing open. After watching it for half a minute, you stepped forward, testing if your ID card would work.

The door swung open, its hiss masking your startled gasp. The open doorway presented you with an array of opportunities, ones that would get you in trouble – or fired – if you acted on them. Potentially, you could take a sneak peak at how Kylo Ren lived, but the thought quickly diminished to a draw when you took more than half a second to think of which punishments Kylo Ren would deem fit for violating his privacy. The door glided shut, indicating your untimely decision-making skills. It was for the best, even though – to your chagrin – the thought of getting punished once more made your thoughts spin.

You shook your head and checked your watch, _0800_. You slowly swept your eyes across the opulent expanse that was now considered your part-time living quarters, taking in the details one last time before heading towards the elevator. You walked between the long leather couches as you made your way back to the elevator, catching a savory glance of that deep red piano in the corner over your shoulder as you passed through.

You traced your steps back to the obsidian lobby, where you began to smell something heavenly. _Breakfast time_. You felt your stomach rumble at the smell that was lingering nearby. You followed your nose until you landed in a nearly vacant cafeteria. You walked up toward the covered assembly line; the food vats were all but empty – the only thing left looking like a mixture of oatmeal and mashed potatoes. You stood contemplating it for a moment, your stomach growling for any sustenance it could be offered.

“It tastes better than it looks,” came a raspy voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to find an average height, dark-haired, amber-eyed girl waiting intently behind you. You caught a glimpse of her uniform; _it was like yours_.

You spun and narrowed your eyes towards the grey embroidery on her chest, inwardly scorning Commander Ren’s blatant preference for the most obnoxious color on the spectrum. Hers read:

_Harper, First Order Care Provider, General Hux_

You met her eyes with a relieved smile. “Oh, thank you, uh –”

“Talia,” she informed you.

“Yeah, thank you Talia. I’ll give it a try,” you said going to turn around, but being stopped by her gripping your shoulder.

She leaned in to look at your embroidered title. Her face didn’t fall to a horrified frown; instead, she let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Well, I guess we’re co-workers. Nice to meet you –”

You informed her just the same of your first name, a little quicker than her due to anticipating her question. “I guess we are,” you scooped up some mystery mush into your to-go box and she followed suit.

“So, how long have you been on the Finalizer?” She asked as you presented the cashier with your ID badge.

“Actually, I just got here this morning. I was heading down to the med bay when I got a whiff of something promising, only to be met with this,” you flung your hand out towards the empty hotplates.

You waited as the cashier scanned her badge, noting yours looked identical to hers. “Yeah, breakfast goes fast here; I usually just take the scraps of what’s left before the start of shift,” she said before shoving some of the mush into her mouth as you began your walk towards the med bay.

“Oh,” you said, tasting the mush yourself. It wasn’t too bad, but it lacked any flavor to be considered gross. “How long have you been here, then?”

She finished chewing another bite. “Um – I think directly after I was assigned to General Hux; they transferred me from Starkiller because General Hux is barely in need of any medical attention – other than the occasional eye sprain –” she joked, “and the population on the Finalizer requires more medical personnel than Starkiller does,” she shoved another full bite into her mouth. You briefly wondered if she was trying not to taste it before it went down her throat. “But, hey – are you here permanently?”

“Um, not really. I’m here so long as Commander Ren is, kind of like his shadow. I leave when he leaves,” you took your second bite, trying her method of swallowing before your taste buds could register the flavor.

She barked out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, I can understand why you’d need to travel with Ren – you know, his _temper_ and all,” she tossed her empty to-go box and fork in the nearest trash can as the med bay came into view.

You coughed out a stunted laugh at her candor. “Yeah,” you thought back to his violent slashing of the co-pilot seat just a few hours ago, “you could say that.”

You entered the automated glass doors of the med bay and followed her until she stopped at the center nurse’s station. You stood there awkwardly, not knowing where to go.

“The Elite have their own wing, just through the doors to the right,” she said while studying the patient screen on the wall. She looked over to you and smiled. “Have _fun_!” Her tone was smart and sharp.

 _She was someone you could be friends with_. You smiled back at her as you regarded her as a new confidant in your mind, turning to go find your new workstation.

“Welcome to the Finalizer,” you said under your breath, feeling the first shred of normalcy you had since you stepped off of the Command Shuttle this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AnD tHeY wErE rOoMaTeS. Ahahaha, yes. It's serves a purpose, I promise! 
> 
> Reading this back before posting, I really had an aneurysm from the amount of times I typed out "you". I've worked on it and promise that further will not be this bad. Phrasing is a skill I am trying to get a grip on. 
> 
> I seriously - my heart melts at all of your comments. I love that you guys are engaging with the story! It seriously means everything to me (':
> 
> Ah! I'm so excited to be on the Finalizer! 
> 
> \- ST


	8. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not the smartest idea, but definitely nothing you'll regret... right?

Why does Kylo Ren need to have five indwelling catheter kits stocked and ready to go in his assessment room?

You stood in front of the too-tall, overstocked medical supply closet in your workstation – also known as Commander Ren’s personal assessment room. It was everything you probably should have assumed it would be: excessive and indulgent. Every cabinet was jam-packed with medical supplies. You thought back to your brief time working at the storm trooper hub, remembering having to call the medical supply department for nearly every IV starter kit you needed. Here, though, there was a dedicated shelf with every needle gauge, every syringe size, every type of tape and securing device you could imagine. Mason’s words continued to haunt you, seeming to become truer every day you spent at your assignment; the First Order really only cared about the health and outcomes of their leaders, never truly thinking about the storm troopers at the front lines. It made you angry, seeing the need of so many wounded soldiers, and knowing the Elite _could_ fix it, but ultimately understanding they didn’t care enough to make the effort.

You sucked your teeth as you opened the door next to the supply shelf, meeting a wall of black fabric as you did – this time, though, it was just the fabric, no fuming Force-sensitive tyrant behind it. Your fingers trailed down a stack of the folded black garments, the particular articles a mystery as you brushed over the rough threading. You could tell the piles were organized so they held all the pieces of Kylo Ren’s layered ensemble. You removed one collection from the shelving and closed the door behind you.

You placed the clothing on the assessment table at the center of the room. At the top of the pile was a pair of long black socks. You were stunned by the construction of them, knowing it was meant to come up only to Kylo Ren’s mid-calf, but noticing it was nearly the length of half your leg. A curious thrill came over you, egging you to try it on. You knew it wasn’t the professional thing to do, but you also knew that your assignment could barely be considered professional to begin with. You swiveled your head as if you were being watched, your eyes dancing around the room as you did. Smirking, you knelt down, taking off your shoes and quickly pulling the lengthy sock over your toes, rolling the oversized garment until the hem came just above your knee. You held your leg out and examined your new accessory. It had been even longer than you had anticipated, making you acutely aware, once more, of just how tremendous Kylo Ren’s size was.

You hummed to yourself for a moment. “I mean, I can’t just wear one sock, that would look silly,” you joked as you began to cover your bare leg in the other consuming black stocking. You held the hem of your scrub dress as you admired your covered legs, your brain trying to imagine how they would look on their true owner as compared to yours. You felt a slight pang of pomp, like the socks had carried some of his power-filled essence within their stitching.

Turning back to the table, you unstacked the pile until you came to the base of the bundle. There was an unnecessarily high number of underpaddings, revealing further just how many layers Kylo Ren wore to go about his daily business. A small amused breath shot from your nose, remembering the time it took for him to get fully undressed before joining you in your shower. The clothes in front of you all seemed pretty standard, aside from one piece that you had never seen him wear before. It was comprised completely of black leather – of course – and it was extremely heavy in your arms. You held it out so it could unfold in front of you, the hem quickly meeting the floor with a light _thwack._

It was a cape. He had only ever worn his robes around you. You looked over your shoulder, searching the assessment table for a black cowl – it wasn’t there either. You turned back to the long splay of leather hanging before you, noting the small fasteners on the inside of the shoulders. That same curious thrill from earlier glittered over you as you analyzed the pleating of the garment, only this time it was heavier – a desire more than a curiosity. You wanted to see what you’d look like under his cape, already feeling the power it emanated by just holding it at arm’s length.

You quietly giggled to yourself as you swung the garment over your back, pinning the fasteners to the shoulders of your dress. You walked over to the observance mirror and took yourself in, swinging the cape from side to side as you flexed your stocking-covered legs in the reflection, watching as the black cloak dragged along the floor, further evidence that you had no business wearing it. You twirled around, noting how the hem slightly lifted from the sterile floor of your workstation as you spun quicker. You stopped abruptly, staring into yourself as you acknowledged every piece of clothing on your body – the cape, the socks, the uniform – was distinctly intended for Kylo Ren. Your dress even had his name embroidered onto the left breast, marking you as _his_. The thought made you shiver, your arms reached to wrap the leather garment around you like a shawl. You turned your head away from the mirror, finding a mysterious metal cabinet-like unit in a corner of the room.

Walking towards it, the cape trailing along, you noticed it was an ID protected storage container. Narrowing your eyes, you scanned your badge and the front shot into the floor, startling you with its speed. But what startled you more was the product it contained. Your spine sent a hot wave of sparks across your skin as you gawked at the shelves brimming with hundreds of blood bags; there had to be at least two hundred bags of packed red blood cells just on the top shelf. You leaned into the slightly cooler atmosphere of the fridge, gawking at the surplus of red. Slowly, you reached out past the enclosing fabric of the cape, plucking a bag from the unit, feeling a vague sense of uneasiness as the scarlet colloid melded to your touch within the confines of the clear plastic.

You turned it over for a second, searching for the content description on the label, mumbling it quietly to yourself:

_Kylo Ren – Type O negative – No crossmatch required._

Your stomach dropped, the anger building inside of you making it harder to breathe. The barbarous amount of blood had already made your face prickle with red wrath, but the knowledge that Kylo Ren was a _universal donor_ had set flame to the remaining skin on your body – like you were having an allergic reaction to the information, rejecting its unjust veracity. It was a cruelty for him – a man who spent his days killing and harming so many innocent people – to contain a lifeforce so highly valued. Not only was there a whole fridge of blood intended exclusively for him, which will inevitably expire before its intended purpose can be carried out, but he would never have any intention of using this power – the power to save a life simply by giving up some of this blood – at all, let alone for a good reason. No, he was too selfish to care about anyone beyond himself.

You realized you were contorting the blood bag within your wrath-induced clutch, nearly indenting the impenetrable plastic with your nails. You reached out to put it back in its original spot, your eyes darting over the headache inducing waste that the metal unit contained, the rage inside of you indignantly quelling itself. It made you sick knowing all of this was locked away, being wasted on people – surely every higher-up had one just like it – who didn’t need it. Who didn’t deserve it.

Your jaw clenched as you scanned your badge to shut the unit. After its unreasonably loud speed-induced _hiss_ quieted, your ears tuned into the unmistakable sound of the approaching footsteps of Kylo Ren. Your heart began to race as you took in the reality of the environment around you – his clothes feathered out on the assessment table, your shoes kicked to the other side of the room, the ill-fitting attire you had been playing dress-up with. Suddenly the forbidden garments felt like they were acid on unsuspecting skin.

You began fighting with the fasteners of the cape on your shoulders; they were relentless in their effort to stay stuck to your dress. The footsteps came to a halt at the door and you let out a quiet, nervous plea of nonsense under your breath, knowing he could sense your panic through the thick barrier of the door. You spun around in an effort to defer the time between him seeing your fear-stricken face, and by some work of God, you got one fastener loose, the right shoulder of the cape sliding off towards the center of your back.

But it was too late; as your fingers wrestled relentlessly with the left fastener, the door to your workstation flung open, Kylo Ren’s boots sending reverberations through the room. You were frozen in place, feeling the unauthorized fabric burning against the skin it touched, the cape straining your neck from its unequal distribution as it hung off half of your body, proof that you knew better. Your chest restrained a nervous laugh, your only coping mechanism within the now unbearably thick atmosphere. Your tongue swelled in your mouth, not knowing what would be worse – coming clean or keeping your mouth shut.

The door hissed closed, making your shoulders jump and forcing your eyes closed in a tight grimace. Kylo Ren hadn’t moved further since he’d entered, creating a burning silence that was eating away at the oxygen in the room. You were suffocating as your brain flipped through all of the potential scenarios in how this could end, and you started thinking that every second you allowed the silence to go on was one extra way he could punish you for your accessories.

Biting your bottom lip, you turned slowly to face him, hyperaware that you were revealing further – the socks – how little you appeared to respect him. His helmet was on, but you could feel the stare he was holding you under behind it. You were right – he hadn’t noticed the socks – and you watched as his visor slowly crept down your figure, noticing his gloved hands tightening in and out of fists.

You attempted to swallow, but your mouth had already dried out from the fear his presence brought you. “Commander Ren, I –,”

“No talking,” he said through his modulator as he began stalking towards you, his boots the quietest you’d heard them, his movements predatory.

You retreated as he grew closer, your back meeting the cold glass of the observation mirror; your heels dug into it, pleading with it to open into a black hole capable of catapulting you into the next dimension. His visor continued moving up and down, scanning your every move; the nervous rise and fall of your chest, the twitching movements of your fingers as they tugged at the skin of your crossed forearms, the frantic movement of your eyes over his intimidating stature as he closed in. You were sure you hadn’t taken a full breath since he’d entered the room.

He placed his hands on the mirror at either side of your head, your eyes locking into his visor. He leaned into your shoulder, the heat of his body wafting onto your neck contradicting the stark cold from the muzzle of his helmet on your cheek. You could hear his breath underneath the mask, how heavy it was even through the metal barrier. You gasped as he snaked one hand down your jaw and around your neck, resting it there – a warning against words.

He hummed for a second, stilling you further as the manipulated tone vibrated against your ear. “You look perfect,” he said, his thumb lightly stroking your artery. His other hand came down to trace the opening of the cape that was still covering you, barely grazing his gloved fingers against the flushed skin of your arm. “Well, _nearly_ perfect.”

His hand grasped the crook of your elbow and turned you as he walked the both of you back a few feet, forcing you to look into the mirror before you. The sight made you blush – the stockings, the half-wilted cape, his hand gripped around your neck, his inconceivable height and broadness completely suffocating your own figure – and he guided your arm down to your side, momentarily tracing the sensitive skin before he reached towards his side.

“You are, however, missing a few key elements,” your eyes followed as his hand came back into sight holding his unignited weapon.

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth unconscientiously parted at the sight of the silver shaft of the lightsaber, looking back towards the reflection to meet his visor. When he had gained back your attention, he pressed his hips into you, his hard length obvious as he leaned into your shoulder once more.

“And if you’re trying to imitate me,” his hand fell from your neck and down your uncovered arm, his knee positioning itself between your legs, “I’d like it done right,” he said and parted your knees, causing your stance to widen under his will.

You narrowed your eyes at his visor, confused by his words. Your eyes darted within the mirror, switching between his visor and the weapon he was tracing along the top of your thigh, the border of one of the crossbars leaving a white line as he moved it closer to the apex of your thighs. You gasped as you realized his intentions, your cunt clenching at the thought, betraying you once more under Kylo Ren’s touch.

He let out a quiet, insidious laugh, sparking hot goosebumps all over your skin. “Mm, such a nasty little thing, aren’t you?” His free hand slipped between your legs, lifting the hem of your dress until he reached the thin fabric of your panties.

You squeezed your thighs together, wanting to draw his hand closer to your clit. Your eyes stayed set on his visor in the reflection. He pressed harder into you, the bulge of his erection only pooling the desire in your belly further and faster. Your lungs released an unintentional whine as he teased you with his touch. You watched as your body worked to draw him as close to you as possible.

He leaned his head further into you, his mask now leaving indents on your cheek, allowing his gloved fingers to lift the hem of your panties and brush over your sensitive folds, making you shiver. He slipped one finger over your pleading clit, drawing a long, slow circle around the engorged flesh. Your eyes fluttered back as you watched him in the mirror, observing your reaction to his touch.

“You put up such a fight, yet you’re always soaking wet whenever I’m near you,” another digit slipped between your slit, gliding down closer to your entrance.

Your hips thrusted into his hand, yearning for him inside of you. Your head fell back into his chest as your clit grinded into the palm of his immense hand, reveling in how rough the skin was against your sensitive nub.

“Mm, always so impatient,” you watched as he flipped the weapon over in his hand, weaving his fingers around the crossbars as he angled the base towards your core. “I’m going to make you come, just not with these,” he teased your entrance with the tips of his gloved fingers, making your breath catch.

His fingers curled around your panties, pushing them to the side to make way for his weapon. As he inched it closer to your folds, you shut your eyes, bracing yourself for its punishing sensation. Kylo Ren stopped moving; you popped open one eye to see what he was doing.

His visor was trained on your eyes in the mirror. “I can make this worse for you than it needs to be,” his words were so close to your ear, vibrating through your jaw as they fell off of his tongue.

You swallowed, opening your other eye and meeting his reflected gaze with pupil-drowned irises. “Ah,” he said, resonating like a lion through his mask, “smart girl,” he said as the weapon finally passed into your folds.

The cold metal bit at your hot skin, sending shockwaves down your legs. He leaned his pelvis into you, stabilizing your legs to his, and he dragged his thumb over your clit. Your mouth fell into a quiet moan, distracted by the pleasure for a small moment, until he began pressing the weapon into your core.

“Ah!” You cried out as the hilt mercilessly stretched your entrance to conform to its unforgiving width. Your legs flexed until they turned to stone, bracing you for the incoming length of the weapon.

“There we go,” he twisted the weapon, making you hyperaware of all the infinitesimal ridges and ribbings of the shaft, the exposed wire pressing further into your walls as you throbbed around it, “now you look _perfect_.”

A pained whimper left you as he twisted the weapon further into your core until crossbars began digging into your inner thighs. You heard him hum into your ear, his chest vibrating on your back. He removed his hand from the hilt and traced your cape-hidden curves up to the top button of your dress.

You couldn’t even sate your throbbing cunt - the crossbars threatening to draw blood - as he undid the upper portion of your uniform. He slipped his hand under the black fabric, the warm leather of his glove drifting over your sweat-glittered chest.

You sharply inhaled as his touch compelled a throb from your core, the weapon scraping against your walls. “Now that you’re completely dressed, tell me how you feel,” his fingers pushed into the cup of your bra, culling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it as he pressed into your clit with his other hand.

A groan left your mouth, your knees nearly buckling under your convulsion. His chest lightly bounced against your spine as his mask let out a low chuckle. “Use your words, officer.”

“Oh, Ky –” was as much as you could get out before the lightsaber began pulling out from you, both of his hands preoccupied. He was Force fucking you with his weapon. Your hips bent forward, his erection pressing into your ass through the layers of clothing

“Wait, could you repeat yourself?” He was teasing you as the weapon began thrusting into you in even, quick strokes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting your lips to withhold another whimper, trapping the pressure in your chest, not wanting to give into his needling words. Your nose was cycling the thick air at a heightened pace, clueing him into your building release. The thumb on your clit was drawing tight circles, the seam striking over your sensitive flesh was making your legs shake. He noticed all of these little changes, knowing he was causing every one of them. You felt his cock throb at your back, making you wince inside your throat.

“Just give into it, stubborn little whore,” the weapon was prying into you quicker now, the crossbars chafing at your thighs, his thumbs tuning your clit and nipple as his helmet dug further into your face. “I know you want to; your entire existence is screaming to let go,” he twisted the weapon once more, the crossbars no longer at your thighs.

You licked your teeth and bit your lip, still not wanting to fall into the abyss he was pushing you towards. Your breath was loud and obvious by now, proving just how close you were to letting go.

“When are you going to learn?” The weapon pounded into your cervix, your legs wobbling against his strong foundation, your head flying back into his chest. “I have complete control over you,” and he swiped over your clit with the seam of his glove in rhythm with his fingers pinching your nipple and his weapon ramming into you, all of this sending you flying over the edge.

You cried out, unconscious of how loud you were, not caring, only feeling your body sing as it writhed in the pleasure of your climax.

“Who’s in control, little whore? Say it,” his voice was edged with need. “I want you to tell me what you’ve learned,” the weapon was still pumping into you.

You groaned out in frustration, irritated he was pulling you from your reverie. “You, Commander, you are!” Your body was still careening with satisfaction, your voice ragged with ecstasy.

“Say my _name_ ,” the weapon pounded into your cervix once more, your walls pulsating around it.

“Kylo Ren,” you whined out, “it’s you, Kylo, you,” your breath faltered.

He pulled the weapon out of your now raw core, leaving your body feeling cavernous without it there. He removed his hand from your clit, your panties unfolding to cover you back up. You knew where he was leading his fingers, and your hands reached up for his wrist, wanting to lead him to your mouth.

“Not for you, greedy little slut,” and his hand bypassed your mouth, leading up to his helmet.

He pressed the lock on one side, then the other, and lifted the helmet just enough to uncover up past his nostrils, his eyes still hidden. He brought his gloved digits up to his nose and inhaled deeply. Your cheeks pinked in the reflection, embarrassed for him to be so close to the evidence of your release. He dragged his fingers down to his lips and then pressed them beyond, sucking your cum into his mouth.

“Mm,” he purred, “so _fucking_ perfect,” his unaltered voice constricted your chest with need, wanting more of it. He swiped his thumb across his lip, wiping the excess pleasure from his face. “And all for me,” he shoved the helmet back down, his gaze wasting no time finding yours in the mirror. “Try to remember that next time,” he snaked his hand out from beneath your unbuttoned dress, the friction on your oversensitive skin making you tremble.

He moved his legs back to a normal stance, causing your legs to nearly crumple in the absence of his support. His hands caught your shoulders before you could fall to your knees like a newborn fawn. He looked up into the mirror expectantly, your eyes meeting his, hidden behind the mask. “What would you do without me, officer?”

You hid a smirk behind your lips. “Be able to stand without help,” your eyes glittered with brazen delight, the smirk no longer hidden.

He smacked your ass right at the apex of your thighs, making you yelp, legs ready to give out. “ _Such a smart girl_ ,” he knelt into your shoulder once more before stepping away from you, his erection no longer pressing into you, but still very much unattended to.

You spun around to meet him, no longer in the reflection. You bit your lip and began reaching towards his belt. His hands gripped both of yours before you could get any closer to the need behind his thick layers. “You will repay me at a later date,” he dropped your arms. “For now, focus on cleaning up your mess; I expect that cape to be returned when you’re done with it,” and he turned to walk out of the door.

You couldn’t help yourself. “And the socks… commander?” Your hands shot to brim the hem with the tips of your fingers, rolling the stitching between them as you watched his stride halt.

His helmet peaked behind his shoulder, his hands in tight fists, but his voice glittered with hidden taunting. “They’re all yours,” and he dripped your name from his poison-dipped tongue, making your skin catch fresh goosebumps. “I strongly urge you against missing your curfew.”

With that, he strode out of the assessment room, leaving you to your own thoughts. As you walked over to the observation table, you felt the early manifestations of the inevitable gait-altering pain you would be experiencing tomorrow morning – and most likely the following few mornings afterwards. You shook your head, recounting that this was the second time _today_ Kylo Ren had made you cum.

 _Kylo Ren_. Just minutes ago you had cried it out under his command as his weapon pounded into you. You were made suddenly aware of the chafing marks from the crossbars on your thighs, the afterglow slowly unveiling the injurious nature of Kylo Ren’s sexual practices. And although pain began to settle into your muscles as time passed, there was one word that kept echoing through your brain, acting as a temporary salve as you turned it over in your head:

 _Perfect_. Kylo Ren had called you perfect. _Three times_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the obligatory first lightsaber fucking. And yes, Kylo Ren will make good on your current debt. 
> 
> It has been absolutely crazy this week; I had an exam and then a final a day later. I'm just excited that I'm taking my last final of the semester this week! I want to be able to write a decent amount over break (which is literally 9 days because nursing school is fucking bonkers), and having studying out of the way will allow my to do so.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the response last week. It kept leaving me so stunned! Every single comment and kudos makes my heart sing (:
> 
> Working on future chapters right now. And lord am I excited to release chapter nine. SO EXCITED!
> 
> \- ST


	9. No Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'll learn your lesson. Maybe. Eventually. At some point. Hopefully.

It had been a week since Kylo Ren had found you trying on his uniform – seven days since he’d _completed_ that same uniform with his weapon. The first few days following were a punishment – undoubtedly intentional – given the raw aching pain you felt whenever even thinking about moving your lower extremities. The sting had mostly faded by now, only a small echo of soreness reminding you of the occasion. The recovery period set aside, you found yourself replaying the memory, thankful for the mirror positioned in front of you, granting you release in the following days.

You had grown tired of doing mindless inventory of the sequestered med bay; after the first few days of the mind-numbing seclusion, you took on a small patient load in the Finalizer general med bay, working alongside Talia. You mostly cared for storm troopers – Mason had been right about how dehydrated they all were – and the occasional post-accident engineer who had been too close to an expiring engine.

You were grateful for the opportunity to refresh your skills after being pulled from one-on-on patient care less than a month after your graduation. Talia had graduated when you had, but she had been salutatorian and was obviously picked from the highly sought-after group of appointees that Hux had told you about. It may not have been fair to you, but you often found yourself feeling inferior to her, knowing she was intended for her position with General Hux and you were simply a _fascination_ – his phrasing still confused you – to Kylo Ren. You were grateful for her, though, despite the constant pang of inferiority you felt when you were around her; she was extremely helpful and gracious whenever you needed guidance, never anything but perfectly hospitable, making your jealousy for her grow that much deeper, silently strangling you.

Before heading out, you observed shift handoff, listening as Talia presented nightshift with a detailed description of all the happenings on the unit, mostly involving fall precautions and electrolyte imbalances. You walked to each of your patients’ rooms with the nurse who would be taking over their care, informing him of the abnormalities of the patient and the highlights of their plan of care. Afterward, you began back to the Elite med bay.

Before you could pass through the ID protected threshold, Talia stopped you. “Hey,” prompting you to turn around, “wanna grab some food after you get your stuff?”

Her request had taken you off guard; you hadn’t had many chances to make friends beyond Mason since graduation, you’d been socially out of practice. “Um, yeah. I’ll meet you at the door,” you smiled back at her before heading in to collect your supply bag from your assigned med bay.

You checked your watch as you walked up to her, noting the time – 2000 – and the little red dot on the radar; you’d figured out it was indicative of Kylo Ren’s location, in turn a tracking device for him to know yours as well. You were still wondering the technology behind it – did he wear a tracker specific to you?

“Ready?” Talia asked.

You took one last look at your watch. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

“A little tip: the cafeteria is always crowded this time of night due to shift change, so occasionally I’ll go to the general’s bar,” you both made your way out into the communal area of the Finalizer.

“Oh,” you privately narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t that, you know, for _generals_? Like, won’t we get kicked out?”

“Mm,” she giggled, “another little tip: these uniforms – tangible privileges; we work for two of the most powerful men in the First Order, we are practically VIP,” she sounded so different from when she was working, like it was all a façade for the workplace, revealing a more approachable person behind the mask of perfection.

You ran your fingers over the rough embroidery of your left breast pane, continuously tracing your thumb over the letters R – E – N. “I guess you’re right, I mean we do live in the VIP sector of the ship, so maybe I was just being oblivious,” you shrugged.

Talia’s stride momentarily stalled at your words. “What are you talking about? I would hardly call our living situation _VIP_ , even if it is better than Starkiller.”

You tilted your head to look at her as you passed into the halls. “Well, what would you call it, then?”

She regarded you with disbelief, making your cheeks burn red, feeling you’d said something wrong. She shook her head. “I don’t know, but I – personally – don’t view living quarters I have to share with two other people that only has one bathroom as _VIP_ , but I guess everyone has different standards,” she made a sharp turn into a hallway lit with blue LEDs.

You were perplexed by her apparent ignorance. You picked through your brain, ensuring the letter you had read last week had been real. _Welcome to the neighborhood_. Of course it was real, the indented paper beneath Kylo Ren’s writing danced vividly under the pads of your fingers. Why didn’t she live in Hux’s quarters?

“Hey, when you got here, did you get a letter from Snoke informing you of your living situation?” Given her lack of knowledge, you didn’t want to clue her in to something that may get you in trouble – like the fact that you were more or less living with your boss.

She pushed through a door as she answered. “Let’s see; I was taken here on a ship packed full of unbathed storm troopers, and then I went to that godforsaken administrative office to get my badge, and then I met my two roommates who never do the dishes; I don’t remember any letter, though. Why do you ask?” She looked at you as you approached a door guarded by a storm trooper.

Even though you knew it was ridiculous to get a rush of nerves whenever you saw a masked storm trooper, some part of you dreaded knowing that one day it would be Robbie beneath that helmet. You shivered as Talia walked in front of you to greet the guard.

“Evening Talia, I see you have a friend tonight,” your throat closed at the similarity in his voice. “I’m gonna need some ID, ma’am.”

You fumbled with your badge, but Talia stopped you. “You don’t have to do that – this one is just _particularly_ annoying,” she rolled her eyes at him. “You see her credentials on her uniform, that’s all you need.”

He leaned his head down slightly, looking at your chest. He absently read it aloud. “Commander Ren. _Oh._ ” He stiffened, activating the hatch so it opened. “Carry on, ladies,” his voice turned corporate.

_Hm. Maybe this thread-bound branding had its benefits after all._

You both stepped into the wide lounge; it was very sleek – LEDs under the counters, backlit liquor wall, secluded rooms for business meetings, black leather seating – and it was more vacant than you’d expected. Talia led you to a table in the center of the room, gawking at you as you sat.

Your brows lowered confusedly. “What? Is there something on my face?” Your fingers twitched up to your jaw.

“That guy _always_ gives me the most trouble, but one look at that name on your uniform and he nearly passed out,” she let out an incredulous laugh.

“That’s so _weird_ ,” you tried to hide the sense of superiority behind your words.

“Don’t even try to hide it – you know the power that uniform gives you – even more, you _like_ it. And I don’t blame you; Hux doesn’t necessarily insight fear, but I at least get to have drinks with a friend in a place without fluorescent lighting,” she tapped on the screen embedded in the table and began ordering.

You followed her lead, ordering a glass of wine with your food. She waited for you to finish. “Oh! What were you saying about a letter from the First Order?”

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, not knowing what to do. On one hand, it made sense that she wouldn’t live with him – he wasn’t as injury-prone as Kylo Ren – but on the other hand, why wouldn’t all the care providers receive the same letter?

“Hello? You still in there?” She swiveled her head to regain your attention.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I was just,” you were trapped beneath indecisiveness as you considered her for a moment, remembering you didn’t have to keep secrets, especially if they weren’t yours in the first place. “Yeah, I got up to my room and the letter said that they had placed me in Commander Ren’s quarters in an effort to decrease cost expenditures and be near if I’m needed,” you watched as her mouth fell agape, revealing just how different your situation was. “Something along those lines, anyway.”

A waitress came by and placed your orders in front of you. You took a long sip of your wine, letting Talia’s face come down from the shock.

She shook her head and picked up her fork, tossing around her salad for a moment. “So, like, you live with Commander Ren?” Her eyes were still slightly protruding from her skull as she took a bite.

You finished your wine, holding it up to cue the waitress to bring you another. “Well, I live in Commander Ren’s _quarters_ ; he hasn’t showed up since I got here.”

You weren’t lying; you had been very specific in your effort to never miss your prescribed curfew of 2200, but he was never in sight when you’d gotten there. Your radar always informed you he was somewhere across the ship, doing whatever Kylo Ren did during his disappearances.

She finished her own glass of wine and ordered one more as you had. “I mean, I don’t know whether to be scared for you or jealous that you have your own bathroom,” she stuffed some lettuce into her mouth.

Your eye twitched. “Why should you be scared for me?” You were getting tired of this reaction; like you were some helpless inevitable collateral damage in Kylo Ren’s wake.

She leaned into the table, grasping the edge, and whispered. “Kylo Ren isn’t the most desirable roommate, is all I’m saying,” she leaned back, the waitress handing her a new glass. “You know – with all the,” and she flung her arm around in the air and snarled, mocking your tantrum-prone superior.

You laughed at her demonstration, inwardly regarding how spot-on she was with the lightsaber swinging. You sipped down your wine, laughing as she continued her mockery. “I’m going to snort this wine if you don’t stop!”

She laughed as she drank down her second glass. “You have to admit I’m right, though; he’s _scary_.”

“I mean, I guess,” you took a bite of your meal, noting the stark difference from the usual cafeteria leftovers you picked through every morning.

“You _guess_? He slices people in half for blinking incorrectly.”

“I don’t know, after a while,” your eyes drifted off to the side, remembering your many surprise engagements with your Master – the elevator, the conference room, the shower, the Command Shuttle, and, most recently, the assessment room – and you laughed to yourself, “I guess I’ve just acclimated.”

The waitress brought back a bottle to the table. _What in the world_? You spun your head around, looking for the culprit, but nobody was around. You noticed her regarding your uniform, and you knew what had prompted her delivery. She averted her eyes when she realized you’d noticed her staring and smiled sheepishly before leaving.

Talia laughed, reaching for the bottle. “Girl, that uniform is _magic_!” She poured two glasses, offering you one.

“I really shouldn’t, I’m such a lightweight I probably needed to stop after my first,” you said as she held the drink out.

“Oh, _no_. This alcohol was intended for you to begin with, and I still haven’t complained about my roommates. C’mon, at _least_ one more,” she tilted the stem of the glass towards you.

You examined your mental state for a minute; you felt fine, the room wasn’t spinning and there was still just one distinct Talia in front of you. “Fine, if you _insist_ ,” you took the glass, clinking yours to hers.

She went on about the many hardships with which her roommates barraged her – minimal hot water, one is _very_ loud in bed, and the other seems to eat food that isn’t hers – as you both drank down the gifted wine until it was finished. At some point you had begun talking about your worst dates, and you were too tipsy not to give in.

“ _Well_ let me tell _you_ ,” your finger wavered a little as you tried to aim it in her direction, “the _night_ I left for the Finalizer, this guy literally got drunk,” Talia gasped, her face squidged against her hand as her drunk eyes watched in enthrallment. “No, I _know_! He got _drunk_ and then he _fell asleep_!”

Talia grasped her chest. “You’re such a trooper!” She shook her head.

You giggled. “That’s funny because _he_ was a storm _trooper_ ,” you both threw your heads back in laughter.

The bar was empty aside from the two of you, inebriated in the center of it. You caught the bartender’s annoyed glare as you scanned the room, obviously due to it being past closing. You looked down to your watch, the numbers seemed to haze together under the face’s red illumination.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me, it was good to get this all off my chest.”

“Oh, _yeah!_ No trouble, I liked talking with you. But, hey, are you good with getting back to your place alone? You weren’t lying about being a lightweight,” her words were a bit hypocritical as they slurred together.

You scoffed. “I’m fine. Are you? I can walk with you, maybe put those roommates in their place while I’m there,” your words were only slightly more coherent than hers, but you still offered.

“Nah, I’m all good, thanks though,” she stood from her chair, catching the back for stability.

Your actions mimicked hers, your nails indenting the soft leather of the seat. Talia hugged you before steadying herself and heading out of the bar. You waved at the bartender before leaving, stride stuttering a little as you passed the storm trooper outside of the lounge hatch.

“Have a nice night, miss,” he tacked your last name on as you wandered past him.

“Shut the fuck up, Robbie,” you waved your arm behind you.

You were vaguely aware of him saying _who’s Robbie_? But you had walked into the general hallways before you could be sure. Soon enough you made it to the obsidian lobby of the VIP sector of the Finalizer. You scanned your badge and hopped on, leaning against the cold stone walls of the elevator, your flushed cheeks thankful for the cool atmosphere. Along with your already slightly spinning vision, the elevator’s upward propulsion made your head feel like it was floating.

When it dinged open, you pushed yourself off the wall with your shoulder, your hands grasping the threshold for support as you entered into the concrete covered foyer. The doors began closing, sending you stumbling into the wall next to them, your arms spread out from your body for balance. It was a feat walking between the two couches, not wanting to accidentally fall into one and not be able to get up. Eventually you made your way into your bedroom, stripping before getting into the shower stall. You decided on cold water, hoping it would sober you a little so you would wake up with less of a skull-splitting migraine.

You dressed, slipping on Kylo Ren’s socks as you had for the past week; you justified this by telling yourself they kept you warm, but you knew that you enjoyed the fact that they were _his_ and he’d let you keep them – a trophy of sorts. You pulled on some clean panties and a long sleeve black shirt, both provided by the First Order; all week you had been inwardly scorning yourself for literally packing nothing – missing the feel of your usual raggedy pajama shirts. You slipped the band of your watch from your wrist and padded over to place it in your nightstand. When you opened the drawer, you were met with the letter from last week, Kylo Ren’s writing visible in the low light of the lamp above it. You placed your watch next to it, letting your fingers trace over the dried ink once more, remembering the portion of your conversation with Talia that wasn’t as foggy as the rest. Shaking your head, you also regarded the folded cape below your drawer, narrowing your eyes as you contemplated on ever giving it back.

It was only after admiring the writing when you noticed how dehydrated you were, no doubt amplifying the effects of the alcohol in your system. You sighed as you rubbed your eyes, heading out of your room to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. The concrete was cold beneath your socks, further coaxing you back to consciousness on your walk to the sink.

You stood on your tippy toes reaching for a glass from one of the neatly organized cabinets, your shirt allowing the cold air to filter beneath the gap your reach had fostered between it and your belly.

“Where have you been?” Kylo Ren’s voice seemed to boom in the broken silence, startling you.

“Oh my - fuck!” You spun, the tips of your fingers brimming the rim of a glass on their way down, taking it with them.

The glass crashed to the floor, eradicating the stillness of the room. You leapt away from the counter, trying to avoid the spray of glass beneath your feet. Before you, Kylo Ren was sitting back on the black couch facing you; his chest was bare, the only clothing he had on blended in with the leather – black lounge pants, as far as you could tell.

You ran a hand through your hair before stabilizing yourself on the kitchen island. “Um,” your increasing consciousness was now regressing, flustered from his presence, “sorry about that,” you felt your mouth dry out as he stood from the couch and sauntered over to you. Your eyes were focused on the flexing muscles of his abdomen, flowing while he closed the distance between you. “Do you, um, have a dustpan, or…”

He was in front of you now, staring down, his chest only inches from your lips, radiating heat that made you dizzy. His hand closed around your neck, and you looked up to glance his empty eyes; they were darker than you remembered them. Your focus drifted down to his lips, and – in your state of warped judgement – you tried to force yours to his. Needless to say, he did not find this charming.

Before your lips could get anywhere close to his, he clutched down around your throat and lifted you from the floor. You tried kicking your feet, but the Force was keeping them still. His head cocked to the side, watching your fingers grapple around his tightening hand.

His eyes flitted around your face, burning your skin in their wake. “Do you disrespect me purposely, or are you just completely negligent towards what is expected of you?” His voice was thoughtful, like he was considering the question himself.

You tried to speak, but you could barely muster up enough air to form full words. “I – can’t – breathe – sir,” you sputtered out under his fist.

“I should make that a permanency,” his tongue slipped over his teeth behind his closed lips, and he narrowed his wrath-flooded glare.

You could hear the blood in your ears, whooshing furiously, trying to compensate for the obstruction of his merciless grasp. “Sir – I – please,” you dug your nails into his hand, trying desperately to get any amount of oxygen into your system.

“Why are you so insolent? Like a child I have to constantly monitor,” clenched teeth sent a spray of spit glinting in the dim lit kitchen.

He held you there a second longer, chin trembling with rage as he let you down, your thighs smacking the countertop of the island. You sucked in air as fast as you could, practically feeling the oxygen returning to your blood. You grasped at your throat, but his hand wouldn’t budge. You tried prying it off, but he was too strong even just resting it there. Your eyes were pulsating as the blood rushed back to your head. You looked up to him, nearly spitting in anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You were so fed up with his moods, your eyes burned with the threat of tears.

His jaw clenched as you said this. “You blatantly disregard everything I ask of you, and now you show up here two hours late and drunk,” his nostrils were flaring.

“You weren’t here for the last week to know that this was the first time I wasn’t extremely early for curfew,” a fury-spiked laugh escaped your throat. “That’s so fucking ridiculous! I have a _curfew_! I am a grown woman! I didn’t fucking sign up for your bullshit!” You screamed into his face as hot tears stung your face.

Kylo kept his hand on your throat, watching as your anger poured over your cheeks and down onto his fingers. You were sobbing at his hands once again, overcome with anger led on from his infuriating tantrums. “I quit. I want out,” you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be here,” your sentences left you through stuttering gasps.

His hand moved up to your chin, commanding the removal of your hands, tilting your gaze to his. “We went over this last week: you have no control,” He leaned you back on the counter, his chest pressing into yours as your shoulder blades met the marble. “You _will_ learn to respect me,” his teeth grazed your earlobe, biting down, making you gasp.

Your hands moved to tangle into his hair, craving him closer. He caught your wrists and placed them back at the sides of your hips. “Here are the rules,” his breath brushed against your neck, “no touching. And I won’t be helping you; keep your hands at your sides or you will regret it.”

“Why are –,”

“Mm, rule number two: the only words that are to come out of that smart little mouth of yours will be ‘Yes, master’, am I understood?” He moved his head so he could further pin you beneath his gaze.

Under his appraising stare, you clenched, knowing full well he could sense the desire emanating from your skin. “Yes, master,” you said, the words felt so demeaning coming from your mouth, like his earlier comparison – a child.

His lips quirked up slightly in one corner as his eyes narrowed. “Good girl,” he purred, placing his hands on either side of your head, his back arched as his head leaned down to your face, his pupils pouring into you.

You watched as he pressed light kisses on your wet cheeks, collecting the tears he had caused on his tongue. He trailed teasing kisses down your face, placing one – feather-light – at the tip of your nose. He finally met your lips, his hands encircled your face, lifting your head from the counter. His mouth was eager for yours, pressing hard against your teeth until his tongue broke past their barrier. Your heart picked up, enraptured in the feeling of his masterful tongue gliding over yours, feeling his strong fingers dig into your scalp. A moan escaped your mouth as you basked in his touch, your hands screaming in frustration to claw themselves into his dark locks.

He hummed against your lips. “That’s right, be a good little girl and keep those greedy things where they are,” he said as his lips trailed down your jaw, his tongue tracing a wet line in its path.

He skated his teeth along the line of your artery, stopping just below your jaw to suck a blood-soaked bruise into the skin. Gasping, your throat burning as every cell in your body became engulfed in need, yearning to enclose him in your limbs. His hands moved down to your belly, thumbs skimming below the hem of the shirt, causing your abdomen to twitch below his touch.

You closed your eyes, clenching them tight to focus your energy somewhere other than your aching hands. One of his hands reached back behind your skull, clutching a fistful of hair. “Good girls keep their eyes open,” he kissed your naval and you shuddered, peeling your eyes back open and burning them into his. “Are you a good girl,” he let your name fall of his tongue, making you wince in need.

You gulped, “Yes, master,” your voice was riddled with high-pitched wanton need.

He took his hand from your head and started under your shirt once more, goosebumps lighting up your entire body. “We’ll see, won’t we?” His eyebrow cocked before he slowly slid your shirt up your chest, his hands pressing into your belly.

You bit your lip, stifling another moan. How did he do this to you – one minute making you cry out of frustration, and the next making your body tremble with anticipation? It was cruel and unjust he had this much power over you.

His eyes locked on yours and he worked his way from your naval and up to your sternum, his nose shifting the shirt higher as he did. Your nipples were already piqued, the fabric of your shirt creating a scorching friction against them. His hands snaked under the hem and lifted the fabric, replacing the friction with their rough, warm palms. He let one hand circle around your ribcage, his thumb placed under the curve of your right breast, and he enclosed your left bud between his thumb and index finger, rolling it between them.

His warm touch on your sensitive skin sent a frenzy down your spine. “Y-yes, master,” you stammered out through your flaming throat, burning to cry out nonsensical praises.

His chest stuttered against your belly as he quietly snickered to himself. “So needy already, and I’ve barely begun,” he kissed into the soft skin of your breast, circling around your nipple before suckling it into his mouth, moaning against your chest.

A pressure was building under your skin, your nerves burning to touch him back, to worship his body as he was yours, your hands flexing at your thighs, aching to claw into him. You chewed your lip and let out a pathetic whimper, nearly brought to fresh tears under the binding of your temporary contract.

He was swirling his tongue around one nipple, suckling it further into his mouth, and rolling your other while pinching it, making your back arch. He switched his touch, leading his tongue across your sternum, and took the opposite bud between his lips. His eyes watched you as you came undone from his touch, your irises overtaken by your lusting pupils. He narrowed his eyes, proceeding to tease you with his teeth, making you yelp, your head momentarily falling back; you could feel the tightening of his lips into a smirk, observing the control he had over you.

His mouth lifted from your breast, large hands bracing him back over your frame. He leaned back up to your mouth, kissing you as his hands moved to hook beneath the waist of your panties. The feel of his touch so close to your sex constructed a moan, fleeing into his mouth and right back out as he hummed into yours. Your hips bucked, needing him closer to you. He slid your panties down to where his thumbs could press in the indents of your thighs, his hands enveloping your hips, digging into you as his tongue danced with yours.

He pulled away, his hair a curtain enclosing you both, his lips parted with panting breaths. “Still remember your rules?” His lips formed into a small secretive smirk, alluding to something unbeknownst to you.

Your eyes flitted between his lips and his eyes, both burning your face with heat. You met his penetrative gaze with desire-filled eyes. “Yes, _master_ ,” you bit your lip, feeling his fingers dip deeper in your hips.

He let out a fierce exhale from his nose, crashing his lips into yours. You could feel a need beneath his pliant lips, no matter if he might deny it; you basked in his urgency for you, knowing you felt some amount of raw connection with him so close to you. Your hands were cramping as you strained to obey his verbal bond, hot with the unmet demand to enrapture every part of him. You shifted them to clamp around the edge of the counter, needing something to bear down on.

He parted from you again, leaving your neck to follow him up, wanting to keep him near as long as possible. “Such a good girl,” he stood up straight, the absence of his body heat left your skin to crawl with goosebumps.

His hands skimmed down your hips as he led your panties further down your legs, his fingers skimming yours, scorching the skin on the backs of your hands as your panties scraped past them. You whimpered, so frustrated with your self-induced restraints you nearly growled. He locked eyes with you, watching your reaction as he tugged your hips down to the edge of the marble – the cold stone stark on your back – and knelt between your legs. Your eyes went wide, your head falling to stare at the ceiling as your heart rocketed at the realization of his plans.

“My good girl needs to relax, doesn’t she?” He pressed his nose at the inside of your knee, running his top lip over the hem of the sock covering your calf. His humming sent vibrations up your leg, his thumbs tracing circles over your knees. “You’re so beautiful, here, wearing what’s mine,” he began to kiss up your inner thigh, his lips on the supple skin making your chin quiver.

_My good girl_. You held a moan behind your teeth, your core throbbing at just his words, your slick spilling onto your inner thighs. His hands moved as his lips did, slowly growing closer to your cunt, teasing your skin with his nails. His nose poked into the soft tissue, stopping now and then to dig in, smelling you as his lips kissed further up your leg.

He grunted into your thigh. “Sit up,” his voice was tinged with lust, his teeth biting at your skin, making you clench again.

You caught your breath, looking at the ceiling for a second before pulling your elbows back and enveloping your fingers into fists. The sight of Kylo Ren before you was too much for your brain to process; his hands holding your spread legs, one of his shoulders flexed, his lips massaging into your skin. But, what made you shiver was the way his eyes were piercing into yours – burning auburn behind the black oceans of his pupils, completely eviscerating the veil and ripping into your soul. You tried to swallow a whimper, but it came out, unbound, as you held his gaze.

His eyes lit for a second. “Remember, good girls don’t touch,” he breathed as his hands wrapped around the sides of your belly, his fingers and thumbs digging into your waist and lower back. He angled his head so he was at your center, his chin resting atop your mound. He lowered his head, his lips tracing down your slit as his eyes kept you entranced.

You hadn’t noticed, but your nails were digging into your palms within your fists, and your mouth had been agape with anticipation. He parted his lips, sliding his tongue between your folds, grazing over your clit. Your head snapped back, your fingers spasmed out of their clutch, wanting so badly to reach out and pet him as he swirled his tongue around your sensitive nub.

He stopped, prompting your head to come back down to him. “Eyes on mine, little whore,” he waited for your response.

Your chest was moving fast, clueing him into your need for the release he’d been teasing you with. “Hh, yes, master,” you moaned.

His eyes darkened as his tongue began to move again, your eyes nearly watering from the sensation. Your teeth were clenched, your fingers spread wide across the marble, straining for him. His head moved down further, his tongue leaving your clit and swirling to tease your pulsing core, the tip of his nose nuzzling into your clit. He hummed, sending vibrations into you, making your thighs flex beneath his touch.

“Tell me,” he said, “why can you follow my commands so perfectly while I do this,” his teeth teased your clit, making your back arch, “but when I expect you to do what you’re told,” his tongue lavished the tip of your engorged nub, “you go out of your way to deny me,” his mouth released your nub, his eyes searching yours.

Your chest was trembling with stuttering breaths, your release was so close your skin was evaporating. Your eyes were straining not to close in ecstasy, tears forming in the corners. Kylo gripped you closer to him, his touch making your breath shudder.

His eye twitched, his mouth nearly a snarl, his brow cocking as his eyes narrowed. “You are going to swear to me,” his tongue teased the skin of your folds, “swear to your master,” his breath teasing the skin of your mound, making you wince, “from now on, you are to obey my every command, my every expectation of you,” his head lowered between your legs, his lips maneuvering to encircle your raised nub. “Say it, or I’ll leave you like this, like you leave me when you ignore everything you’re told.”

A hot, tension-induced tear streamed down your cheek and into your mouth. Your breaths were rapid and your chest was sputtering as he held you right at the edge of pleasure. “Yes mas – yes, ma-haster,” you were surprised you could even speak at this point. “I swear,” you heaved out.

You felt him smirk over your clit before locking his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth. You cried out as more tears streamed down your face. Kylo’s eyes held you, watching you come undone from the pressure around your raised flesh. Keeping that intoxicating pleasure-infused pressure with his mouth, his hands unlocked from your waist and reached for yours, clutching your fingers into his.

You could no longer keep your eyes open as you fell into the white light of orgasmic bliss flourishing over every inch of your emblazoned skin. Your fingers clawed into his, gripping them as your body absorbed the shockwaves crashing through you. You were so lost in release, you failed to realize you were no longer supporting yourself; Kylo had stood from between your legs and used your anchored hands to pull you up from your elbows. Your forehead was resting on his broad, muscular chest, your body coming down from its all-enthralling high.

When your hands had stopped strangling his, his thumb began tracing over your knuckles. Tears were still streaming down your face, falling onto his fiery skin; your breath was slowing, but it was still deep, your back cresting as you leaned against him.

You stayed there for a few more seconds, reveling in your intertwined warmth, but you eventually pulled back from his chest, keeping your hands in his. You looked up at him, your eyes red and wet. You could barely believe his words, that you had felt like he did – burning, flayed, raw, aching – when you merely showed up late. But, looking into his eyes right now – searing into you with unadulterated agony, filled with a mixture of desperation and dereliction – you considered the feasibility of his statement.

You began to feel something unwarranted within your chest; it wasn’t rage from your recent restraints, it wasn’t even the earlier hatred you had screamed at him. No, it was something completely unexpected – _guilt_. Guilt from viewing him as less than human, guilt because you never considered he could feel the sheer abandonment that filled the eyes before you, guilt because you had failed at your one assignment – keeping him free from ailment.

“I’m, I didn’t,” you tried to think of any words that would atone for your juvenile negligence.

“I know,” his hands left yours, moving up to your face, thumbs wiping your tears away, “I can feel it in you,” His voice was softer now, the dark edge from before lifted.

You knew he could sense it, but you needed him to hear it. “I know,” your eyes searched his, “but you’re right, and I’m sorry,” if you weren’t so close to his face you might have missed the near-imperceptible notch in his brow. “I promise I’ll try harder in the future, sir.”

His eyes danced over your features, something excruciating behind them, like he was searching for a trick within your words. He exhaled slowly and brought his forehead to yours, snaking one of his hands behind your neck, and the other down to your hip. Your gaze locked with his, admiring the flecks of hunter green and honey brown in his irises. “New rules,” his voice was trying hard to be steady, “I’m going to fill your pussy with my cock, and you’re going to scream my name as I do, understood?”

Your breath hitched at his forward phrasing, and your cunt clenched for the same reason. “Yes, mas –,”

His hand forced your mouth to his, his lips relentless in their drive to bruise yours. You sucked in air through your nose as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the table, into his pelvis, greeting you with his aching length. A moan escaped your frantic mouth as you felt his clothed head graze your bare pussy.

Your fingers rooted into his hair, after being denied the soft, dark strands for so long it felt like you had finally resurfaced after being weighted at the bottom of the ocean for hours, like you could finally breathe. And he wasn’t fighting you; he was letting your fingers interlock into his damp tresses, letting you pull him closer to you. His hands went down to his trousers, pulling the drawstring and freeing his impressive cock from the black bondage. He seethed as the fabric slid over his throbbing desire. _How long had he been concealing that_?

He began stroking it, positioning it between your folds, rubbing his head against your clit. You mewled at the friction, hips bucking in response. “Is this what you want? My cock in your cunt?” One of his hands reached under your shirt and began to knead at one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his fingers. “Answer me, slut!”

You growled into his mouth. “Yes, Kylo! That’s exactly what I want!” Your legs encircled his hips, closing the gap between you, his cock brushing along your slick slit.

His throat let out a thunderous groan, his mouth moving down to your throat. He leaned you back, one hand clasped around your knee, the other steeled into the crease of your thigh. He angled his tip at your core, proceeding to sheathe himself in your throbbing walls all at once.

“Oh, _God_!” you squeaked, lurching your head into the crook of his neck, your arms pulling him into your chest.

You heard him seethe as he pulled back. “Such a tight little pussy,” he slammed into you again, your legs parting as his hips crashed against yours. Your toes were curled, your body absorbing every shock he sent through you.

He was relentlessly rocking into you, his digits digging into your sweat slicked flesh, bruising you beneath his grasp. You were holding yourself to him, your arms looped around his neck, your body filling with warm pressure as your walls pulsated around his thick cock as it stretched you to his will. His body was slicking, sweat dripping from the nape of his neck, your fingers collecting it. You wanted to stay this close to him for as long as possible, his thrusts breaking you in half, legs turning to rubber under his influence – you had never experienced anything better than him.

He hummed. “You’re being such a good girl, taking my cock,” his grip on your knee hitched your leg higher. “Should I let you cum on my cock, little girl?” His voice was hot on your ear.

You were panting into his shoulder. “Yes, Kylo, yes!” You teethed at his neck, grunting as he thrusted into you.

“Beg for it then; be a good girl and use your words, fucking slut.”

“Please, Kylo!” Your back arched as you felt the strange sensation of the Force dancing around your clit, not entirely stroking it though, teasing you.

“Mm, please _what_? Tell me what you want,” his words tinged with cunning mirth.

“ _Fuck_ , please Kylo! I want to cum on your cock!” Your cry was muffled into his thick locks, vibrating onto his neck.

The force began to swirl over your sensitive nub, quickly bringing you to the edge. “Fu _uuu_ ck!” You cried out, the pressure buzzing through your entire body.

“Does the dirty – _shit_ – dirty fucking whore want to cum?”

“Please, Kylo. I need –,”

“Then cum for me, slut,” he growled into your ear.

For the second time since you’d stammered into the quarters, your body exploded for Kylo Ren. You shouted his name into his ear, sending him into his own release. Your core milked his cock as your walls frantically pulsated around him, pumping his cum into your cunt. His hands dug further into your flesh as he fucked you both through your climaxes.

He leaned back up, your arms twisted around his neck making your body go with him. Your legs unwound from his waist and he pulled out from you, making you wince. Your fingers mussed with the sweat-soaked hair at the base of his skull as he pulled his pants back up. His hands unhooked from you and he momentarily knelt down to pull your panties back over your legs. When he came back up, you peered into his eyes, noting the earlier fury and abandonment had been replaced with something unrecognizable.

His eyes narrowed for a short moment and then his hands wedged beneath your legs and pulled you against him. He lifted you from the counter, your legs, again, wrapped around his waist, and he carried you away from the kitchen, sliding your panties the rest of the way up your legs. You let your head rest against his strong chest, listening as his lungs were steady and slow while he held you with ease.

A door hissed open and closed, and he leaned down to let you fall back into your bed. He pulled away from you and the chilled air of the room shocked your body, making you shudder. You watched him as he stood over you, that same unrecognizable emotion resting in his eyes – it was gentler than his usual guarded stare, and it made you wish you knew what he was thinking.

Was he waiting for you to say something? “Do you want to… stay?” Your voice was shaky, nervous the suggestion would ruin the connection he’d lavished you with tonight.

After a moment of consideration, his eyes shifted towards the floor, his jaw tensed and that soft emotion behind his eyes vanished, taking that momentary kindredness with it. He leaned down and reached for something. With a soft dullness, your heat dropped when you realized he was taking the cape back. He met your eyes again, tucking the leather under his arm. “Don’t forget to clean up your mess before you leave tomorrow,” he held you there a moment longer, looking over your exhaustion-draped body, and turned out of the room. You listened as your door shut, his opened, and his shut, pulling him completely away from you.

You sighed, the frigid air prompting you beneath the blankets. Your body huddled into the thick comforter, searching for a warmth it could never provide. You dreamt a barren wish of being in Kylo Ren's arms, wrapped in that fleeting bond of tenderness, wanting to suffocate in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... extremely nervous while posting this chapter. I do not know why. Halfway through this is when I really started paying attention to phrasing and terminology. Maybe it's because I'm proud of it, who knows.
> 
> I made a new avatar for here/tumblr and I am in loooove. Also have been considering updating my user here because it seriously bugs me.
> 
> Last week I was two days out from my last final and am happy to announce I finished my second semester of nursing school with honors! 
> 
> I seriously love the response I've been getting. It is extremely encouraging and I hope you all know - from the depths of my heart - how much light you bring into my life.
> 
> \- ST


	10. The Criminal Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren hasn't been around for a while, and sometimes rules have to be broken, no matter the repercussions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: semi-graphic descriptions of medical trauma, blatant malpractice.

Ever since three weeks ago when Kylo Ren carried you to bed, you’d been wondering where he’d disappeared. This was the longest he’d been gone since before graduation. His absence wouldn’t have prompted a second thought if he hadn’t left on such a bewildering note, one that littered your mind with questions, holding you back from any chance of decent sleep. The only things keeping you awake – and alive – were energy chews and adrenaline.

The med bay had gotten increasingly more chaotic since you’d arrived on the Finalizer; once a place of predictability, the rise in case severity had turned it into a hostile, wearing your nerves thin with every half-dead officer of the First Order. Before, Talia would assign you a max of four patients, and they would typically only be admitted for observation and fluids, but now it seemed you had six patients every shift who needed near constant monitoring, practically circling the drain under your care. There were whispers around the nurse’s station about rising tensions with the Resistance, but nobody knew many specifics, only the fact that it was no longer solely storm troopers suffering.

“Are you sure? You’ve checked everywhere?” You had been off and on the phone for the better part of your shift, feeling the seconds eat away at your lungs as you watched your patient’s current blood bag drain to nothing.

“Miss, it’s against protocol to spread misinformation relating to medical supply, you should know this,” the lab technician had been fed up with you ever since your fifth call, asking the same question, hoping for a different answer each time.

You couldn’t stop the sharp, spite-infused exhale that left your nostrils as his words ground against your ears, once again explaining that the Finalizer was completely out of blood products. “Well,” you sucked your teeth, making sure it was audible through the phone, “you know to call me when you get a new stock,” you slammed the phone into its holder before the technician got a chance to reply.

Fingers tread through your hair as you held a scream within your chest, wishing it was professional to pout in front of patients. Unlike your master, you didn’t have the privilege of throwing temper tantrums when things didn’t go your way; instead you chose to hide out in your patient’s room, shutting the curtain to appease your own privacy needs.

The patient was a young male engineer, healthy and a head member of his cohort. He had come in earlier after a modified TIE-fighter blast cannon exploded; a piece of shrapnel sliced through his left carotid artery and another lodged itself into his right eye. The force from the blast caused his head to slam against the floor when he landed, creating multiple fractures along his skull. It made the situation worse knowing that there had been an increase in equipment malfunctions, further proof of the heightening tensions with the Resistance.

The IV pole was cluttered, full of current running medications – contradictory due to his unfortunate situation, heparin hanging next to protamine, fluids hanging next to Lasix – and countless empty blood bags. The bag hanging right now had probably about thirty minutes before he would need another one, and it was unlikely the lab would turn up with any fresh blood within that time frame.

“God,” you breathed, slumping down into a chair, your head falling against the wall as your eyes closed, praying for the phone to ring, knowing he wouldn’t make it through the night without a constant cycling of blood replenishment.

You sat there, watching the drip chamber, seeing the falling line of the rust-pigmented contents the bag contained; the vitals monitor shifted every now and then, indicating his body’s attempt at regulating all the external sources of volume. As the blood became lesser, draining to nothing while the monitors chimed along, something clicked. Your eyes shot open as your head sprouted goosebumps and your heartbeat filled with adrenaline: there was an unlimited supply of universally compatible blood at your fingertips, locked up in Kylo Ren’s personal med bay.

Standing, you walked up to the patient’s bedside and placed your hand in his, clasping your fingers against his cold, pale skin, feeling the faintness of his weakening pulse. This was beyond stupid – and illegal – to even consider; to not only transfuse blood that wasn’t logged into the main system, but to transfuse blood that was markedly intended for Kylo Ren – blood that belonged to the First Order – was equal to personally handing in your license and shooting yourself into space.

His fingers twitched beneath your grasp, tearing your eyes from his hand to his face, partially hidden beneath the bandage wrappings around his head, searching for any sign of consciousness. “Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?” You kept your tone clear and steady, keeping his eyes within view, watching them for a reaction.

His eyes didn’t open, but his mouth twitched. “I – I,” he stammered out before his whole body began seizing. His body became rampant with convulsions, the delicate stitching of his artery snapped open, spraying you with hot blood.

_Oh no. No, no, no._ Your brain went on autopilot, and you watched yourself simultaneously slam the crash button above his bed and clasp your hand around his neck, applying heavy pressure in an effort to keep him from bleeding out completely. A second had passed before a cluster of nurses and physicians busted through the door, hands full of supplies, one running a crash cart into the room, another clearing the space of all superfluous furniture.

Your jaw was trembling from shock, trying not to feel the blood streaking down your face and seeping into your clothes. Talia came up to your right and helped to pull the patient onto his side, safeguarding him from aspirating on his own saliva. “Tell me what happened,” she called over her shoulder towards you.

Your eyes were flashing, trying to keep focused while your body used the rest of its strength to keep from passing out. “Uh, I – I don’t know!” You scrambled to recall just a few seconds ago, the adrenaline making your memory go limp. “One second I was holding his hand,” a tech came from behind and pulled his side rail up, “and then he, uh, his fingers twitched and,” foam poured from the patient’s mouth, intermingling with the ruby rivers pumping through your fingers, “and, and he said something and he heard me, and then,” a nurse started suctioning his mouth, “then he just seized!” It was a feat the words even formed in your brain, let alone stammered out into partial coherence.

“His blood pressure is bottoming out – he barely has a pulse,” a voice came from around you.

“Stop the Lasix and the heparin, he needs more volume,” another voice came from a different direction. “He needs two of epi!” The words fell quiet within the chaos of the room.

Despite your best efforts, the blood below your grasp continued to slowly pump beneath your pressure, gushing over your fingers, staining your hands red. “I’ve been calling the lab all day! They are completely –,” you paused. It was now or never: were you going to save your license, or were you going to do everything within your power to save this young man from bleeding out beneath your hands?

“What? Are they out or what?” The one voice came again, urgency rising within it.

The moment was infinitesimal, inconspicuous to anyone around you. Your brain lit up in a tingling uproar, matching the urgency of the scene around you. “Switch places with me!” You urged whoever was shouting at you into your spot.

“What do you mean? Why?” You felt hands slide under yours, replacing the sensation of warm, silky blood with icy, rough digits. It was a man, you realized as your legs carried you away from the bed.

Running from the room, you yelled, fingers dripping in your patient’s dwindling lifeforce. “I’m getting blood. I’m going as fast as I can,” you didn’t process the passing faces, running through the halls and into the threshold of the Elite wing, too crazed to bother caring about your gruesome appearance, solely focusing on getting past the hatch of Kylo Ren’s assessment room.

The breath in your lungs was fast and cold, dizzying you with the overdose of oxygen. Your ID was slippery between your rust-soaked hands, fumbling as you rushed to press it against the metal storage container. The door shot open and you plucked three bags from the shelves and bolted directly out of the room, nearly slamming into the hatch on your way out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” You shouted down the hall as the door came back to view, your shoes slipping on a flood of red beneath your soles as you crashed past the threshold.

“Pushing one of epi at 19:22,” Talia announced as you entered the room, eyes focused on the syringe between her fingers.

You immediately started changing the settings on the IV pump, setting the blood left over from the old bag to run straight into his system, setting the pump to run at its ceiling limit. You tore a set of tubing from one of the leftover blood bags, scrambling for the nearest supplies available at the moment, only concerned with keeping the patient’s system from failing. You figured you could connect the concurrent bag of saline later, after the patient had the opportunity to stabilize.

Connecting the new blood to a pump extension, Talia shouted. “Hey! Wait a second!” Your hands froze – other than the adrenaline-fueled tremors – and you looked over to her. “How do you know that’s his type?”

You heard the edge of admonishment in her voice, echoing the doubt everyone had presented you with when you were assigned to your position to begin with; she was questioning your competency. “It’s O negative, do you want to see?” You held out one of the bags, half throwing it towards her before you turned your attention back to the IV pump.

She called your attention over once again, her voice quieter than before. Before meeting her eyes again, you entered in the rate for the blood to run and pressed start.

She held your gaze with stunted shock, her face tighter than usual, her eyes wider than before. She looked down to the bag in her hand, back to you, back to the bag, and back to you. _Fuck_. The adrenaline-soaked blood rushing through your veins seemed to halt completely at the realization: she knew what you’d done. She knew where the blood had come from – _who_ the blood was for. Staring back at her tumultuous eyes, seemingly drowning in the riotous audacity of your decision, you could barely feel time passing – like it had slowed completely, the world echoing around the snow-globed moment.

The incessant beeping of the vitals monitor quieted, the patient stopped seizing, and the room stilled – nurses, techs, and physicians all waiting for some intangible notion to learn if this silence was good or bad. With the air thick, time slowing further to make the tension nearly insufferable, not a single person dared to interrupt the impending response.

_Beep_. _Beep_. Everyone took a synonymous breath, the relief palpable in the room as the patient’s chest began to rise and fall, unsteady and uneven as it was. The physician quickly intubated the patient, a nurse taking of the role of bagging as the emergency team moved to the corners of his bed, unlocking the wheels, rolling him and his IV pole to another room, the rest of the assistance following them out.

Your gaze followed them out into the hall until they were no longer visible through the observation window. Afterward, you turned back around, finding Talia staring you down, an excess of blood dripping from both of you. She tried crossing them but realized the slick fluid would only envelop her skin further and dropped them to her side, her fingers separated with rigidity.

“Talia, let me explain. Please,” your hands reached towards her, pleading for her to listen to you.

“I don’t need to hear it,” your name fell from her lips in smothered condemnation.

Your eyes narrowed, not knowing why she was opposed to your words. “No, it’ll all make more sense if you just –”

She spat your name. “I don’t _want_ to hear it,” her eyebrow cocked, attempting to clue you into her intentions.

Regardless of her gestures, you were still lost, thus continuing in your confessions. “It’s just so unfair that all that blood is –,”

“Stop talking!” Her eyes pierced through you. She swallowed, peering toward the window looking out into the hall, eventually finding you with eyes you’d never seen before – crowded with black exasperation. Her voice was low, resonating the cruciality of her words. “Of course, it’s unfair. Everything the Elite does is unfair. But that’s a bullshit reason to jeopardize your career – your life.”

Peering around, you noted the direness of the atmosphere surrounding you; the floor was mottled with pools of overflowed blood, spreading and congealing as seconds passed, the wheels of the bed had left red trails leading into the hall, fading as they sped further away. She was glaring at you still, icy fury dripping from her to match the bloody rivulets down her arms. You’d never seen her like this – emotions screaming out of her instead of hiding behind her usual tight smile.

Before speaking, one of your hands began tracing the embroidery of your scrub dress, fidgeting for relief. “He was going to die,” you kept your voice low, not wanting to shake the stillness of the petrified room.

“He was,” she said, her mouth a flat line. “That’s why I’m not reporting you – why I can’t,” the words seemed to aggravate her, like her decision had buried her beliefs in dissonance and contradiction.

You both stood there, listening as the gore wept from your fingers, descending to the floor with haunting echoes. A new mutual understanding had formed between you, hanging in the air with an aura of discomfort, one that implied, simply: neither of you chose this position, and both of you swore an oath to protect to the furthest extent of your ability. You both knew of the disgusting store of blood allotted to your superiors. You both knew that saving a life meant more than respecting the standards forced upon you by your assignments, or the obligations to your masters.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, the crack in your voice enlightening you to the inflorescence of tears in your eyes.

Clearing her throat, her face came down from severity. “You need to get rid of those,” she nodded towards the two remaining blood bags you had flopped onto the floor.

“What is this _mess_?” A familiar, pinched voice rang through the halls, its distance proven by the muffled tone.

Talia’s eyes shot to the blind-slat window and you spun to match her view. General Hux, unnecessary coat and all, walked carefully around the red pools emanating from the room, grimacing as his boots slightly stuck beneath him. His glassy eyes filled with a heavy disdain as he semi-lunged to pass through the threshold into the room, two armor-clad storm troopers behind him, mirroring his efforts to safe-guard against dirtying their boots.

Before he could notice, you scraped the tears from your eyes, not wanting that inquisition. A sudden tangible awareness of the blatant presence of the blood bags pinned your lungs in place, no longer permitting breath. In your periphery, Talia’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her tongue no doubt turning to sand as yours already had. Stuck with indecision – desperately wanting to learn the distance between you and the contraband, but also wanting to remain inconspicuous in Hux’s presence – your eyes refused to meet Hux, assuming his gall-struck expression.

“Well, are either of you going to explain this?” His hand gestured to the gruesome scene. Thankfully, your eyes regained their ability to move and briskly found his stare – poignant as ever – passing between you and Talia.

You waited a second for Talia to speak, but when nothing came out, the silence ate away at your skin. “General Hux, we’re so sorry you have to see this. Earlier a patient –,”

“The patient seized and popped a few stitches. Our staff handled it well, sir,” Talia had returned to her usual robotic workplace demeanor, the weight of the newly formed pact seeming a distant memory under her corporate exterior.

Hux was no idiot, though, and her vague explanation would never be enough to mollify his impetuous need for blame. “I assume you are aware of the puddle of blood beneath your feet?” His voice was laced with venom.

“I am aware, sir,” her eyes stayed trained in place, like a soldier reporting to her lieutenant. “The patient lost a lot of blood and needed to be moved to intensive care.”

His eyes narrowed, and then shot to you. His mouth sneered into the scowl he seemed to reserve whenever you were present. “Would you agree with this statement, _officer_?”

His words were patronizing, ensuring you were still aware of his glaring aversion, making your teeth grind together. “Of course, sir. I was with her the whole time,” you chose your admissions carefully, dancing around the hidden intent lingering in his tone.

His nostrils flared and he licked his teeth behind closed lips. Keeping his appraising eyes on you, he directed his hand towards the floor, the storm trooper at his right kneeling to grab the blood bag, quickly handing it to Hux. Your head buzzed as he turned the pint over in his hands; you tightened your jaw to hide the trembling fear his discovery had warranted.

“ _Oh_ ,” his voice fled up into a stinging delight, tinged with malicious enlightenment. “I always knew you weren’t the smartest appointee, but I never pegged you as the criminal type, officer,” the smirk of his mouth made your eye twitch.

In your periphery, Talia’s stance slightly shifted as your unspoken agreement dwindled into triviality – its existence no longer serving a purpose under Hux’s revelation. Her face remained militantly still, placed strictly on her master’s pinched expression while he placed the blood bag in his jacket pocket. “Come with me, officer. I’d like to hear how you rationalize _stealing_ from the First Order.”

He stepped aside, his armored monkeys following his lead, motioning you to walk past him into the hall. Muddling through the scarlet puddle, your eyes latched onto Talia’s until she was no longer visible, noting her corpse-like complexion as your blood-washed shoes broke past the threshold into the harsh fluorescence of the hall. _At least you hadn’t dragged her into this_ , you thought, breath stubbornly filling your lungs as you waited for Hux to take the lead.

“Get someone to clean this up, Harper,” he ordered. “I’ll be expecting your incident report in the morning.” His words may have been directed towards her, but their scornful tone was undoubtedly aimed at you. Hux shot you a face full of pompous mirth as he passed by, directing you to follow in his path, leading you towards an uncertain future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big plot and no Kylo this chapter, I know. I miss him, too. It was actually funny how sad I was when I couldn't write him for a while.
> 
> I tried to make the details understandable, but just know there's a lot of politics and red tape that come along with blood transfusions. Although, trauma care blurs lines and has a lot of grey area, but STILL I don't endorse putting patients at risk at all. The good thing is: this is fiction and I can't catch a case for writing malpractice haha.
> 
> I am extremely excited/nervous for the future chapters to come out. I'll be working on chapter fourteen this week, and LORD I am SO excited. I've had this chapter in the back of my head literally since the beginning of all of this.
> 
> I love you all so much. I love hearing your thoughts (and please, give me criticism) and seeing my regular babes in the comments. Y'all have a lot of power, I can only hope you know that <3


	11. Pure Negligence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Kylo Ren told you that you'd repay him at a later date? Well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Bloodplay, Inappropriate use of medical supplies, Dubcon, Choking, No aftercare

The blood had dried onto your skin by the time you’d arrived in Hux’s office, his half-skipping pace giving it time to congeal as he led you through the communal area between the med bay and the business center of the Finalizer. Your face – shiny with crimson streamlets – had been the showcase of the dramatic scene, attracting the attention of every officer on staff during your walk of shame. It was infuriating knowing that you would now be recognized as not only Kylo Ren’s property – courtesy of the red embroidery clothing your left breast – but also as the blood-soaked officer who had met her demise barely half a year into her career.

Talia’s eyes haunted you, cold and militant before Hux led you through the med bay where all of your coworkers watched in stupefied horror. Their stares were cemented into your memory, ones filled with fear and confusion; it was inconclusive as to which out of the two was more prevalent amongst the crowd. It was humiliating how ironic the situation was; you had been escorted to your arrival into the First Order – graduation – and you had now been escorted to your certain denouement from it.

A red-tinged tear fell to the back of your hand, a small rivulet tracing down the blood-filled cracks in your knuckle and slowly falling onto your uniform, fading into the black façade the fabric offered. The weight of Hux’s expectant glare was heavy on your shoulders, but you couldn’t seem to muster the courage or civility to meet it, instead steadying your eyes on the limply hanging coagulation of hair at the sides of your vision. It was indiscernible if you had grown colder due to the blood seeping into your uniform, or if Hux’s office was the same temperature as a cryochamber; nonetheless, you were visibly shivering in your chair.

Hux cleared his throat. “Where shall we begin, hm?” He interrupted the quiet, only worsening your tremors. “I think I’ll start by asking how you rationalized stealing from the very organization who employs you. Yes, I think the members of the Elite would be delighted to hear your thought process behind this show of egregious malpractice,” his words were harsh and berating, coming quickly.

Blinking, another flush of tears flagrantly ran down your face, dully falling into the amassed collection on your skirt. Words could barely form in your head, there was no possibility of any coherent, meaningful group of them leaving your mouth any time soon.

Hux did not appreciate this show of apparent continued disrespect. “Officer, I don’t know what benefit you find in ignoring my questions. You are only incriminating yourself further,” he paused to look over your blood-soaked skin, “if that’s possible at this point.”

Something – dread or shame or fear – tightened around your throat and debilitated your testimony further, a hollow whine leaving your lungs in its place. How could you explain that the disgust you held for the gluttonous concessions the Elite provided its members took residence in the very foundation of your being without getting automatically written up for a scheduled public execution? There was no scenario where you left this room with both your integrity and a promise of life, and that fact incited a new depth of fear within you.

“Fine, have it your way,” he said. “I was going to wait until after you’d gone to pack – give you a fighting chance – but you leave me no choice,” Hux began swiping across his datapad, tapping away words you could only guess were fueled towards obliterating any shot you might’ve previously held at a prospective, happy future. His relentless fingers stopped and he set down his datapad and he sighed. A snuffed laugh left his throat. “Ever since Ren told me about you, I knew this is how it would end,” he said. “You were never fit for the position, and you’ve only proven me right.”

His words caught in your throat, a storm of ill-contained rage replacing the earlier self-pity, readying to tear through him just the same. Taking a deep breath, you finally returned his glare. He could barely repress the glee behind his appraising eyes, his lip half-quirked into an unforgiving show of pompous mirth. His eyes narrowed. “You barely deserve the time I’ve taken to fire you.” His nose let out a small rush of air, proof of the amusement he found in his words.

Fire burned beneath your skin, the adrenaline pumping through your blood making your brain vibrate – rage amplifying through your body. Trying your hardest to temper your tone, you spoke, barely audible. “It isn’t right. All of that blood going to waste, every day just sitting there, expiring,” your lips were buzzing. “It’s disgusting.”

“Those opinions are above your paygrade,” he barked your last name.

Restraining a smirk, your next words left without thought. “I don’t work for the First Order, anymore, _Armitage_. My opinions aren’t your business.” You bit his head off, the audacity of the statement sending hot goosebumps down to your fingers.

His face contorted into a tight sneer, muscles twitching under his arrant disgust for you. In one fluid movement, he unlocked his data pad, spun it, and pushed it towards you. “Let’s make that first part official, officer,” he said through clenched teeth.

With one last narrowing of your eyes, you looked down to the screen, finding what looked like the bottom half of a legal agreement. Upon further analyzation you found it was an official notice of termination, the bottom portion containing two signature lines. One was intended for you – blank – and the other was indicated for a superior officer; this line had been previously signed, the handwriting constricting your heart with its familiarity, filling your memory with the peaked black ink indenting the thick envelope that rested in your nightstand drawer. The frailty of the script still stunned you through the pixelized rigidity of the electronic document.

Not that you had been unaware of it prior to now, but the document – tangible and final – made the weight of the situation slam into you: this was the end. This was the end of your career – if you could even call it that. Regardless if you or anyone else believed you didn’t deserve to be here, it stung knowing you had completely failed at your assignment.

Another rush of hot tears welled up, falling against your will. Lifting your hand – shaking from anxiety – you pressed your index finger to the screen, leaving a trail of red stickiness as you made your way through the letters.

General Hux’s office door hissed open, prompting the cease in your signature halfway through your first name. Looking up, your periphery caught sight of the mountainous barricade of your master, noting the tight fists resting at his sides.

“Commander Ren,” Hux’s voice glittered with an unmistakable giddiness, “you’re earlier than I intended. We’re almost done here,” he turned his attention back to you, sneer included, “aren’t we, officer?”

Swallowing, you looked back down to the screen and went to press your finger to it. Your hand, though, became strangled within an invisible contortion, seizing and lifting away from the datapad. The pain fragmented up your arm and echoed into your shoulder. A pathetic whimper filtered through your strained jaw.

“General Hux,” his long legs landed him inches from you with two strides, “what has my provider done that you deemed important enough to interrupt my training?” Kylo Ren’s modulated voice vibrated the air between you.

The pain hadn’t let up from your arm, making you pale and sweaty from the unrelenting ache shooting up your bloodied hand. Hux paid your agony no mind, the smugness peeking through his stoic eyes. Standing, he turned his attention back to Kylo Ren, and pulled the blood bag from his pocket, splotches of the drying colloid staining the label.

Holding it out for a moment, Kylo staring at him through his visor, Hux looked down at you. “I think I’ll let the perpetrator defend her crime.”

His words were background noise to the infrared pain trickling from your arm into your skull. After you didn’t respond for a second, the merciless torment on your hand dissipated; your other hand grappled to soothe the pain, rubbing your arm as your breath caught up with short, deep inhales

“Officer,” your superior said behind the thick helmet.

“Sir, I was just doing my job. I can explain if you’ll let me,” your tone was level, knowing you’d only worsen your predicament by sassing Kylo Ren.

Kylo’s stance shifted so his boots pointed towards you, his helmet angled down towards your face. “Stand when you are addressing me,” he ordered.

“Disrespectful waste,” Hux huffed.

Staring up at Kylo, you hid your sneer for Hux behind a corporate bluff and pushed off of the chair with your unharmed arm. Looking over at Hux, you held your hand out for the blood bag. Hux narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, trying to deduce your actions, but eventually handed it over.

“This belongs to you, sir,” you said, offering him the evidence.

He considered you for a moment before taking it, his penetrating stare exuding from behind his visor. Once he held the crimson bag, he turned it over in his gloved hands, running his thumb over the content description informing him of the blood’s intended owner – himself.

Watching the blood pool from side to side as it formed to his grip dizzied you. Swallowing, you continued. “Earlier in my shift, a patient came in suffering from multiple traumatic injuries, causing him to need continuous blood replacement therapy,” you explained, watching for any reaction. “Less than an hour ago the patient seized and his sutures busted.”

Hux crossed his arms over his chest, his grimace a permanency in your presence. Biting your lip, you went on. “The patient was in dire need of blood, the lab was completely out, so I improvised,” shutting your eyes for a moment, you took a breath.

Before you could go on, Hux interrupted with a short, sharp laugh. “ _Improvised_ ,” he spat, “please – you knowingly _stole_ from your master, and you had no intention of reporting it. A lying thief – that’s all you are.”

Sucking your teeth, you restrained an eye roll and skated past Hux’s commentary. “I admit that I was wrong in my actions, but I will not apologize for honoring the oath I made to protect and serve to the nth of my ability, especially when I know there was no harm in taking that blood,” your words were an attempt to preserve some degree of your remaining integrity, falling flat on whom they were directed towards.

If it was difficult to get a read on Kylo in any other situation, it was impossible to do so now. He stood there, repeatedly turning the blood around and around, looking through you behind his visor, making your knees lock up, nearly fainting. His nonreaction worked fast at strangling you, leading you to fill the silence with whatever words first came to mind.

“I understand the need to let me go, and I will accept any ramifications for my actions as deemed necessary, sir.” Not completely accepting the admission yourself, the words fled from your mouth before you could stop them.

At this, Kylo’s head tilted towards Hux. “General Hux, you are outside of your jurisdiction here,” his words were slow, and you knew his eyes were still locked on yours.

Hux was taken aback at his statement. “Commander, this officer blatantly stole from the First Order, from –,”

“She stole from me, her master,” he corrected. “As follows, I am the one who decides how she will atone for her crimes.”

It stunned you; his words were a foreign language, resembling some sort of secret protection behind them. Hux locked eyes with you, both your stares flexed into confusion. “You really don’t believe this officer deserves to be fired – at the _least_ – for what she’s done?”

“General, it would benefit you if you would refrain from putting words in my mouth,” Kylo said, exasperation threatening to linger from his restrained tone.

Kylo turned his helmet back to you, his hidden glare communicating some secret emotion. “I don’t believe firing this officer would be _enough_ to discipline her in any beneficial manner,” he said. “She has been less than receptive to previous attempts.”

In hindsight, it was naïve to think – to hope, even – that Kylo Ren would ever act in any way to help anyone but himself. It was also probably just plain stupid to inwardly suggest to yourself that whatever _that_ was – that night in the kitchen – had changed his attitude towards you in any way. From the tone of his words, it seemed you had only angered him further, stirring a heady sense of fear and excited curiosity within you.

Kylo turned back to Hux, straightening his posture. In a moment, his fist clenched tighter and the screen of the datapad shattered, making you jump. “I will take this officer to receive proper punishment for her actions,” his words only supported your theory of his ever-present temper, currently fueled by your seemingly constant lapse in judgement.

Hux’s mouth was a hard line, his eyes narrow and irritated. “The incident has already been reported by an accompanying provider,” he said. “No matter if it’s delayed, this officer will receive a dishonorable discharge,” Hux turned his glare back to you, “again, at the _least_.”

“That’s irrelevant at this time, General,” Kylo said before turning to you. “Come with me, officer.”

Kylo turned towards the door, leaving you to stand in front of Hux. His face was dripping with disdain towards you. “Enjoy your time here while you can, officer.” He glared at you for a few seconds before you finally picked your feet up.

Outside his office, the two stormtroopers stood ready at either side of the door, their helmets following in your path. Kylo was already walking ahead, his long strides making you half-jog to catch up to him. On your way, you noted he had ditched his usual robes and was instead wearing a cape. _That cape_. No, no. He was leading you towards certain torture, now was not the time to fawn over something that most likely wasn’t true.

After a minute of navigating the intricacies of the Finalizer, you were being led back through the communal area. Spying a few familiar concerned faces, you figured it had not been too long since they’d watched you pass by in the other direction, a different leader with you then. There was a noticeable increase of terror in their eyes compared to earlier, though, indicative of the fact that Hux was much less of a taboo topic than Kylo Ren.

“Hey,” you said, trailing a few feet behind his flowing cape, “where are we going?” You figured any conference room would have sufficed for your impending punishment, but the farther you trekked across the open expanse, the more dread built up within you.

He didn’t respond, his heavy footsteps keeping a steady tempo along the reflective floor. Every now and then, the cape would drift to the side and reveal his hands, his free one – the other occupied with the blood bag – flexing in and out of a gloved fist. Wherever he was taking you, it had no promise of Hux’s aforementioned enjoyment.

Nervous, the silence burned through your lungs. Normally, silence from him would mean nothing, but you could sense the wrath wafting off of his figure, hear it as his boots pummeled into the ground. The saliva had left your mouth, leaving you wordless as he led you further, eventually clueing you into your destination: the med bay.

Growing closer to the glass of the entrance, your heart chest constricted. The outside onlookers didn’t do much to your nerves, but the anticipation of returning to the scene of the crime – the earlier blood dried onto your cheeks, the ruddy continuity broken only by obvious streams of tears, your infamous accompanying masked tower of black – forced your nerves into hyperdrive.

Breaching the sliding doors, you stepped into the threshold of your workplace, the faces of your coworkers drawn in entranced terror, their mouths falling agape at your too-soon return and your new escort. For the first time, you were thankful for the blood tightening over your face – it masked the burning red of your cheeks.

Passing further into the unit, you walked past your usual nurse’s station. The first person you spied was Talia, her eyes protruding out of her skull as you passed by behind the storm of Kylo Ren’s cape. She had not yet had the time to shower off the gore, and the sight her hands – still painted in a deep red – sparked a deep need for answers in your heart, slowing your pace. “The patient,” tears welled in your eyes once more, “how is –,”

“He’s okay,” Talia’s words were short, her eyes fearful for you. “They have him in the operating room right now. He’s stabilized.” With a quick flex of her jaw, it seemed she was swallowing back tears. “The lab, um, they actually called right after you…” Her face fell to her feet, her voice betraying a deep sorrow that was intended for you.

The information drew your heart deeper into your stomach; you had ended your career, and for what? Impatience? Nothing? Talia noticed the fall in your face. “The physician said he would be much worse off had that bag not been running during transport. You saved his life,” she offered, a stray tear falling down her crimson-sprayed cheeks.

Without realizing, you had stopped walking altogether. The knowledge that your actions had prevented the death of the young officer acted as a temporary balm for the inevitable end of your career. He was alive, and that’s all that mattered. At least for the moment, it did.

Giving her a slight nod, your own tears thickening your throat, you found that Kylo Ren had stopped as well, staring at you. _Had he heard that_? Would it matter if he had? Bowing your head, you started back again, quickly passing him – you knew where he was leading you at this point. Scanning your badge, you passed through the threshold into the vacated Elite wing and stepped aside as Kylo Ren walked past.

Stopping in front of his designated assessment room, he turned to look at you, still standing at the entrance of the empty sector. “Show me where this belongs,” he held out the limp blood bag, his voice sinister in its low volume.

Swallowing, heart racing, you slowly walked towards him, testing the atmosphere. Walking towards him, you took in his stature, wishing you could see his face just to know the severity of what awaited you beyond that hatch. Yes, he’d saved you – saved being a gracious term – from Hux’s temporary threat of imminent death, but that meant little considering the waves of furor washing off his frame as his hidden glare shot knives through your skull.

As you reached for the bag with shaky hands and a dry mouth, you could not help but notice the complete absence of what you’d felt from him when he’d carried you to bed – the warmth in his eyes, the safety in his hold. All of that was missing, leaving only the thick air of vicious, untamed anger. Tugging the bag from his clutch, you felt the quaking from his body that proved your suspicion – he was completely enraged.

Before you could move to grab your badge, the hatch hissed open beside you. “Fuck!” The word left your mouth unbidden, your nerves fraying under his obvious wrath, centered entirely on you.

All at once your windpipe was being crushed and your pulse was being constricted, his grip locking you against the frame of the hatch. “If one more word leaves that disrespectful mouth of yours you won’t be able to talk for a week.” It was obvious now – the barely-leashed rage mingling in his tone. “Do you understand,” he ended his question with a snarled rendition of your first name.

With the corners of your vision turning black and the pressure in your head making you dizzy, you shook your head as best you could, his visor doubling as your head shifted up and down.

“Now,” he let you down from his grasp, “lead the way, officer.” He watched you catch your breath, bent over and hands cradling your throat, coughing against your bent windpipe, tears forming in your eyes from the pressure.

Stumbling into the room, you flipped the light on, missing the main switch and accidentally turning on the surgical lamp above the assessment table. You went back to fix it, but Kylo Ren was at your heels, blockading any backtracks. Making your way further into the excessive room, your vision stopped pulsating and your hearing came back into focus, quickly finding the insidiously quiet steps of his stalking gait. The centered assessment table offered stability as your legs struggled to stay erect beneath you, unsteady from the anxiety coursing through your body. Finally, the metal storage container stood in front of you. Again, your badge was futile in his presence, the door shooting into the floor with no indication present.

“Good,” the modulated voice at your back sent shivers down your spine and sent you half an inch into the air. “Take three more out,” the darkness of his voice bled through the helmet’s contortion.

Frozen, you stood there, yearning to minimize any further waste of the valued product, but also understanding if you disobeyed him once more that you may never leave this room. His boots shuffled forward and his chest met your back, his helmet leaning into your neck. “Do I need to repeat myself, officer?”

The closeness of his taunting mixed with the feeling of your exchanging body heat made your breath catch. Shaking your head no, you gathered the product in your arms, a piece of your integrity crumbling with every bag you plucked from the chamber. Turning, you kept your eyes trained on the floor. Of course, they didn’t stay there for long.

His hand came up and pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling your eyes back up to the chrome visor. “Put them down,” he was enjoying your fear-inspired compliance, the warning in his voice lilting with some secret only he knew.

Doing as he said, you put the product down and turned back to him, fingers nervously coiling around the edge of the counter. He watched you for a moment, looking over your sticky red skin, dried blood gleaming off of your face and hands under the harsh light of the surgical lamp, clumps of coagulated strands sticking to your forehead. There were a few feet separating you from him, and they were filled with foreboding potential and ill-timed curiosity. Without noticing, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, the taste of newly revitalized blood flooding over your tongue, and you reluctantly swallowed, tasting the liquid metal as it slid down your throat.

His fists resolved at his sides, and he lifted his arms to the locks of his helmet, leaning his neck forward as he pulled it from his head. Unconsciously, your lips parted with a puff of disbelieving breath; even facing imminent torture, his beauty was striking. His skin softly glistening under the stark light, his plush lips casting a slight shadow onto his chin, the strain of his Jaw causing the musculature of his neck to gently flow beneath his skin – an Adonis standing before you. His eyes narrowed as he brushed gloved fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Strip,” his unaltered voice trickled over your skin like silk, the word’s meaning not processing, only its rich melody.

Completely entranced by his enrapturing appearance, you forgot how to move. “Oh, officer, don’t make me repeat myself,” he started closing the distance with his long strides, his mouth twisted with that same secret you heard in his voice a moment ago.

Snapping back to reality, you momentarily forgot his earlier threat. “Wait, what?” _Oh no. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.

“ _Oh_ ,” he tilted his head, tongue skimming his slightly parted teeth as he closed in on his prey, “breaking the one rule you had to follow, and out of pure negligence,” his fingers slid beneath the buttons of your uniform. “This is becoming an exhausting pattern.”

The buttons of your uniform flew to all corners of the room, his hands tearing apart the fabric of the blood-drenched dress, exposing your chest to the freezing sterility of the room. “That mouth of yours is such,” he began tearing apart the bottom half of your uniform, “a,” he ripped further, exposing your panties, “liability,” your dress was now completely split in half, hanging off of your exposed body in its tattered remains.

His gloved hands encircled your head, dwarfing you beneath their impossible size. “Now, _strip_ ,” his eyes were dominated with shadows, communicating the darkness residing behind them, threatening you with the consequence of disobedience.

He had seen you naked before, yet you couldn’t quell your nerves from his command. Keeping your eyes on his, you reached up and nudged your devastated uniform from your shoulders, leaving it to land with a soft thud at your feet. Kylo’s hands left your face, taking their warmth with them, and he stood away from you, looking your nearly nude figure up and down, shadows flashing in his eyes.

The surgical lamp backlit his frame, light haloing around him, his intentions eclipsed by a thick veil of darkness. “Did I say you could stop?” His dim gaze danced over your figure; first to your paling face, next to your covered breasts, down to your clothed sex, and up again.

Chewing your cheek, you kicked off your shoes and knelt down to remove your socks. However short it was, the moment away from his debilitating stare offered your shattered breath a moment of solace. It was terrifying – the hidden intentions behind his eyes – but you had no choice but to obey him, knowing any shred of defiance would welcome the end of your life. You were on a tightrope – every moment threatening to send you falling into an inescapable abyss.

Shuddering, you stood back before him, meeting his obscured eyes as best you could. His present demeanor inspired a fresh insecurity in your heart, manifesting with burning flesh and trembling hands. The heat of your fingers sparked at your back while you unhooked your bra. The thin straps fell limp at your shoulders and you shivered the garment down your arms, letting it meet your uniform below you.

Steeling yourself, you watched his stare lock on your chest; the lighting may have obscured his face from any discernable emotion, but you could have sworn his lips parted at the new sight of your bare breasts. At the unproven possibility, your thighs pressed together, yearning for a touch they had been depraved of for too long. At this, you were certain his head tilted in response. With a slight boost in confidence, your hands slinked down to hook underneath your panties.

Before tugging them down, your arms stuck to your sides and Kylo stepped forward, the rough fabric of his armor whispering against your trembling skin with every breath he took. Restraining a gasp, you swallowed, eyes locked with his as they glinted in the paltry light. The taunting of his lips – full and close – further advanced your pulse rate, watching the corners of his mouth fall into a hard line.

He gripped your chin once more, commanding your full attention. “You misunderstand, officer. These,” his free hand skimmed under the top of your panties, the warmth of his glove glittering sparks in its path and shuddering your breath at his touch, “are irrelevant.”

Unknowingly, your eyes had shut, and he wagged your chin again. “Get on the table,” a crowd of blackness swallowed what you could see of his irises. “Now.”

He stood there a second longer before retracting his hands and stepping aside to watch your meek walk towards the assessment table. The black leather bit the backs of your thighs, then the small of your back, and finally your shoulders, your body buzzing while your hair stood stick straight attempting to warm your frozen skin. An unwarranted shudder of breath escaped your lips as your eyes squinted beneath the blaring light above you. You were unsure if your tremors were from environmental factors or if your body was reacting under the hollow stare pooling fear and need in your belly.

Footsteps – still too light for comfort – began thrumming through the room, drawing closer with every new echo. “Now, why can’t you act like this – compliant, respectful, competent – all the time?” His voice was right behind you, but his face was once more obscured by the piercing light from above.

His hands gripped beneath your shoulders and dragged your body towards him, burning your bare back, leaving your head hanging off of the table. One of his hands cupped the back of your head to angle it towards his twisted face, the crown of your skull directly angled against his obvious pelvis. Circling his hips into your head, he hummed to himself. “You insist on defying me, now publicly, parading your blatant lack of respect,” out of site you heard something rip apart. “You like this, don’t you? You enjoy our lessons?”

Lips parted, a warm rush of fresh goosebumps rose over your skin at his words. You wanted them to be false – wanted them to offend you and disgust you – but he was right; he had a control over you that you could not deny, especially in his presence where he could watch every inch of your skin kindle simply at his voice. Closing your eyes, you shook your head in his hands.

“Maybe this time you’ll actually learn,” he paused, cueing you to open your eyes, the devil in his pooled pupils, “you work for me.”

A slick liquid began pooling and pouring over your exposed abdomen, creeping over your skin as more fell from the unknown source. Reflexively, your hands shot away from the mystery substance falling over your curves and advancing onto the table. Raising them into view, your stomach curdled with realization.

Blood – dripping, crimson, fresh – drenched your hands in new scarlet. “Oh my g-,”

“You _answer_ to me,” Kylo interrupted, another ripping sound coming from above.

His hands left your head to hang from the table, your own blood collecting in your skull without support. He stood at your feet, dowsing your lower body with the red colloid, the slippery liquid encroaching over the tops of your thighs to further pool beneath you, drenching the thin fabric of your panties as it did.

“You function for _me_ ,” the anger in his voice vibrated through the room.

Another ripping sound. Your skin was itching as blood aimed to cover every inch of your body, your breath barely existent in an effort to stop further spreading. “I hate you,” the words were a whisper on your tongue, wrath-born tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Look at you,” his steps carried him closer into view, “covered in your crime and _still_ defying me.”

Quaking with rage, you no longer cared about his precious rules. “ _Kill me then_!” Blood pounded in your head at the effort of your words.

Before you could process it, your face was darted with biting pain, tingling over your cheek, dully ringing through your jaw – Kylo Ren had slapped you. Spinning, his face a whirlpool in your vision, his unfocused figure eventually settled into one solid form as he knelt down to you. His hand clamped around your jaw and forced it open, the tissue beneath his grip bruising your complexion. His eyes – black and crazed – burned into yours, fury blazing through you. He spit, his saliva hitting the back of your throat. You tried to squirm free but it was useless, his hold on your jaw crippling your autonomy. The only salve for your rage scratched your throat as you screamed into his face, your nails digging into the bloodied leather beneath them.

“I’ve considered it,” he tilted his head and brought a new blood bag into your view, “but what would you gain from that?”

The bag tilted forward and renewed your face with a fresh wave of the scarlet lifeforce. It fell into your jaw, collecting on your tongue, meandering into your nostrils as your pulse aided gravity in forcing it out of your nose under the pressure. Your cough was a show of gore – blood violently cascading from the collection in your mouth, the remaining coat covering your throat forcing you to gag, the reality of the metallic flavor nauseating you.

It just kept coming, pooling in the tiny crevices of your ears and matting your hair to your head. Tears may have formed earlier, but their presence could not prevail while the red drained up your face. Your eyes had clamped shut for protection, and once the red river came to its eventual end, you opened them to a vacated view.

A sound came from beside you, and you searched for its source, gasping when you found it. Six feet from your left was Kylo Ren, gloves removed, admiring his handiwork and stroking his furious erection, the friction of skin on skin breaking the room’s silence. He saw you watching him and looked down to you. He slowed his strokes and pushed his thumb into the slit of his cock, collecting precum and dragging it along his shaft.

Despite your efforts, your walls contracted, heartbeat pulsing in your core. He sensed the rising pleasure within your body. “Mm, covered in my blood, your cunt dripping with it, the taste of it driving you crazy, begging me to kill you,” his free hand reached towards the counter behind him, his eyes never leaving yours, “being such a good girl for your master,” pulling the last remaining blood bag up to his mouth, he tore it open with his teeth, a light spray of crimson freckling across his face, “but I don’t think you’ve completely reconciled for your transgressions.”

Following the bag, you watched as he brought it down to the base of his erection and slowly poured the red contents over the entirety of his throbbing cock, cardinal ribbons flowing over his length, letting the excess drip to the ground, emptying the bag with a clenched fist. He massaged the colloid into his head, swiping over his slit once more, rubbing his thumb under the base. An unbidden whine escaped you, the blood pounding in your ears muffling its true volume.

Walking towards you, still stroking himself, he spoke again. “That smart mouth of yours still needs to learn to respect its master.” That earlier secret tone filled the room, its truth now revealed by your blood-sodden body.

His hips angled in front of you with the shaft of his twitching cock – dripping with ruby rivulets – blocking any view of his face. The smell of his skin was overpowered by the scent of metal, simultaneously making your mouth salivate and your stomach churn. He stepped forward, the head spreading your lips apart, widening your jaw as your hands curled around the edges of the assessment table, wringing out their tension.

Without warning, he thrust his length to the back of your throat, gagging you on his cock. The taste overwhelmed you, sending hot shivers down your body from the slick washing over your tongue. It was primal, blood dripping down your throat while his cock strained your jaw and starved you of oxygen. Through the rush in your head, you heard him exhale, reveling in the feeling of your mouth. He pulled back and placed one of his hands behind your neck, relieving the strain from your shoulders and quieting the throbbing in your ears.

“Just for good measure,” his other hand crept over the top of your throat, slicking itself on your crimson neck.

He thrust back into you, red streams drooling up your cheeks. As his cock slid deeper into your mouth, the hand on top of your throat pressed down, further constricting your airway. You wretched as he fucked into your throat, his cock stretching it to his will. He kept his hold on your neck – tightening your larynx around his pulsating length – keeping a pattern of short, constant thrusts while he did. You heard his breath – ragged and frayed – becoming more erratic with every plunge.

In the heat of the gruesome scene – the room, your body, his length shiny with scarlet-tinted spit – your core was throbbing, your clit screaming for any form of contact.

Kylo picked up on this and laughed; fragmented, crazed breath leaving him as he did. “Disrespectful whores don’t get their cunts fucked,” he seethed, his building climax quickly overshadowing his ability to speak.

Overwhelmed and under-stimulated, your hands shot to satisfy what he wouldn’t, slipping on the red slick on your belly, tearing beneath the blood-saturated fabric of your panties. Before you could begin to relieve the buzzing flesh, your arms lost their sovereignty, strapping to the sides of the table under the Force.

His hand pressed down further, once more compressing your blood flow. “Defying me will – _fuck_ – will only lead to more depravation,” he said, words edged with urgency.

His gatekeeping incited a pained whimper, one that vibrated through your throat and onto his cock. “Fu-fuck!” He stammered out, withdrawing and stepping back, your throat sputtering colloid as it attempted to retract back to its intended circumference.

Without the crushing exertion on your windpipe and pulse, your senses trickled back one by one. In the absence of his violent thrusts grinding over your tongue, you remembered to taste the trauma covering your mouth; your sight was no longer blockaded by his pulsating shaft, allowing you a view of his face, concentrated with vengeance; the metallic scent of the scene wafted back into your nose while you caught your breath. That same sound from earlier – quicker, wetter, more ambitious – intermingled with the sound of the thunderous pulse in your ears.

His breathing was erratic, shaking from his lungs. “This is what misbehaving sluts deserve,” he hissed, his hand continuing to fist his furious erection, red with impending release. “You deserve – _shit_ – your words to be stripped from you, your mouth only useful for taking my cock.” Barely lit beneath the shadows his brow cast over them, his eyes burned into yours while he pounded his erection, his sweat-soaked hair swinging with every slam of his fist.

With a strangled moan and the tightening of his jaw, Kylo Ren vigorously fisted himself through release, painting your rouged face with white ropes of his hot cum, covering your cheeks and dripping down to your eyes. The air filtering through your lungs was gasping, consuming as much oxygen as it could with each desperate breath. He tucked himself away and knelt down to your face, collecting his seed on his fingers. “Swallow,” he said, dragging the substance over your tongue, filling your mouth with the violating flavor of salty, blood-tinged cum. You sucked around his fingers, locking your gaze with his, watching the small muscles under his eyes twitch at the movements of your tongue through and around his digits.

His fingers pulled from your closed mouth, sucking until he had removed them completely. The invisible restraints lifted from your arms, and you rose as he did, shifting so your legs hung from the side of the table. It was the first time you’d seen yourself, blood staining every inch of your body; the backs of your hands were skidded with red from your earlier attempt at satiety, your feet dripped with crimson creeks as gravity pulled the still-wet blood towards the floor, pooling further beneath you. The room was a massacre, the carcasses of empty blood bags splayed about, your trashed uniform lying limp, enveloped in the dried colloid of the engineer. The only sounds whispering through the room were the shuffling of clothing and the small drips of crimson overflowing from the assessment table.

Across the room, Kylo Ren had slipped on his gloves and rehidden his eyes behind the chrome-slit visor. The thought of his reddened hands beneath the black leather of his gloves quickened the attention-starved heartbeat in your core. Without looking up, tightening his gloves, he interrupted the eerie silence of the fallout, his voice devoid of any emotion. “There’s a shower and extra uniforms on the linen cart.”

The modulation of his voice only made his words colder. Shifting his belt so it was centered, he looked back up to you. “The Command Shuttle departs for Starkiller Base at the end of the week.” He turned, cape whipping behind him, and headed towards the hatch. “You are dismissed until then.”

With that, Kylo Ren left you to your own thoughts, dowsed in scarlet, buzzing with unsated need, and trembling from the thought of what waited for you upon your return to Starkiller: Robbie and the loose ends straggling behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I must give credit where credit is due. The smut in this chapter was inspired by [this post](https://strongtwiheart.tumblr.com/post/617049461800288256/what-about-kylo-fucking-your-face-and-then) by Kassanovella on her tumblr. I love her so much and that's that on that. (Also, look at me with that HTML code editing. Love it haha)
> 
> This chapter gave me absolute hell. I spent two weeks on it (given one of those weeks was finals week so) and I even added to it a few days ago. But. Well. It's out now so I guess no take backs?
> 
> I'm interested in hearing from you guys on this - criticism, praise, all of it. It's all appreciated and sometimes I need direction with all of this.
> 
> I love reading your comments and learning what struck you guys most when reading. I love you all! Stay safe in these uncertain times <3


	12. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting answers only leads to more confusion.

The glass was cold against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine while you looked out into space. One of the dwindling perks of being Kylo Ren’s appointed medic was the expanse of glass offering an impossible view of the galaxy, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to enjoy it again after leaving tomorrow night, so you deemed it obligatory to take it all in while you were still here – career and otherwise.

A star flew past, disappearing in the distance. After you’d showered and disposed of your decimated uniform that night, Talia caught you before you could sneak away in silence. It was unnecessary, but she apologized for filing the report. It was an act of camaraderie – your pact of secrecy – even if it fell to pieces before it ever got a chance to fully form. Remembering the genuine concern in her eyes – red rimmed with tears – before you left the med bay made your heart fall. The only thing that made your temporary dismissal – courtesy of Kylo Ren – endurable was the fact that you hadn’t roped anyone into your downfall. It would’ve killed you to know that your own malpractice had caused anyone else suffering.

The continuous strip of lighting atop the room indicated it was near midnight. Ever since you’d come back to the quarters it had been impossible to sleep, your mind not staying quiet long enough to allow any rest. A second couldn’t pass without an anxious thought passing through, making your heart drop and your head dizzy.

At the forefront of these thoughts was your impending return to Starkiller, or at least what was waiting for you when you got back. It had been nearly two months since you’d left Robbie in that bar – blacked out and alone – and the idea of confronting him upon your return pitted your stomach with black dread. The thought of seeing him again, knowing that he’d groped at you and stolen your sense of comfort and security, trickled icy adrenaline into your veins. The probability of him being there when the Command Shuttle landed was extremely high, and it made you sick imagining stepping off the ship and being greeted by the one person you wished to avoid above all.

Robbie hadn’t physically hurt you, no, but what made your skin crawl when thinking back to that uncomfortable night was how opposite he was from what you’d thought. When you’d met him and when he’d comforted you, he seemed like a good guy, someone you could see making you happy. When he took off that uniform, though, he was a stranger, a blight in your memory. His ability to exist so separately within himself seemed like it should be impossible – like there wasn’t a real person behind that mask before you gave it a name.

At least Kylo Ren had the decency to stay relatively consistent in his identity. As much as you wanted there to be someone behind that mask – someone you once swore was beyond it – his recent act of punishment enlightened you to the truth: Kylo Ren did not care about anyone but himself, and to think differently was to be a fool. It felt like a dream – all those times you thought you’d seen a person within him, someone you felt real – however reluctant – feelings for, but after numerous attempts at trying to convince yourself you’d imagined it all, you accepted the fact that there was too much tangible evidence for you to have conjured it all up.

There was of course the letter with his handwriting etched into the envelope; the deep indented ink was still stowed away in your nightstand, greeting you every night when going to stow your watch away. The existence of that person – fleeting as he may be – was further confirmed with the pair of socks you’d obtained from his uniform; they were currently shoved into the back of your drawer, hidden away in an effort to keep you from _accidentally_ slipping them on when you wanted to remember how you’d come to own them. There was one thing, though, that proved beyond any doubt in your mind that this person was real: the lingering memory of his touch.

No matter what he’d done to you in that assessment room – no matter the way you dizzied at the site of water running red at your feet, no matter the way your face stung just at the memory of his hand cracking across your cheek, no matter the bruises currently settling into your throat – you could not deny how your skin flourished for the feel of his own. Regardless of your last interaction with him, the thought of his nearness still warranted the flush of your cheeks and a glittering of your spine.

But that had to be the end all be all of it; you could only yearn for his touch, needing to completely forget about the elusive person you could prove the existence of, but was permanently and infuriatingly out of reach. It was a losing game to hold out for the transitory lapses in Kylo Ren’s guard, something he’d been fortifying for years before you’d met him. And, although you wanted to be the one person who could break down those inveterate barriers, you could recognize the inevitable waste of time it would be to try.

“You’re conflicted,” Kylo Ren said, his hidden voice eliciting no more than a slight skip in your heart.

Not turning away from the stars, you sighed against the glass, a small mist of fog spreading under your breath. “I can’t imagine why,” there was little care in your voice; you’d grown tired of reacting in any way towards him, only fueling his intentions when you had.

His footsteps, softer without his boots, shuffled closer, stopping before entering your periphery. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, more a request than a command.

_What was his game here_? An incredulous huff left your nose, fogging the glass again. “You don’t need me to tell you anything, I remember the headache from the last time you went digging through my head.”

A patrolling TIE-fighter came and left the view before you. “Would you prefer that over telling me yourself?” A slight edge rose in his tone, betraying the restraint in his words.

Why was he acting like this? Had he forgotten three days ago? Did he not hear the damage he’d done to your larynx? “Of course I wouldn’t prefer that, but what choice do I have?”

Taking one last look at the star-speckled abyss, catching sight of two concurrent shooting stars, you turned to him. He was in his underclothes, long sleeves and long pants to compensate for the constant winter of the quarters. His hair looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower – which was probable based on his nonsensical schedule. It was a rarity for him to be in the quarters at the same time as you, an even rarer occurrence for him to acknowledge your presence when he was.

His expression offered more life than yours did, his face flecked with the cast of stars in the darkened room. His hands weren’t balled into fists, hanging in a relaxed – if not, cautious – position at his sides. He looked completely… normal. For once. Without the exclusion of a shirt or the inclusion of his usual over-the-top uniform, it was as if he were completely human, neither an angel nor a demon standing in front of you.

“That’s what you’ve failed to understand this entire time,” his unmasked eyes were trained on the stars as he spoke, his voice contemplative. “you do have choices. You just keep making the wrong ones.” With this, his stare came over to yours, meeting your eyes in the barely lit room.

There was one particular choice he was alluding to, and there was no point trying to convince him to see your side. Crossing your arms, your back fell against the window. “I’m not apologizing for saving that man’s life. I did what I had to, and if that costs me my career, then so be it.”

It was still difficult to accept your own words. Half of the reason you kept saying them was to convince yourself they were true, but they haunted you more than you wanted to admit, keeping you from sleep, adding to that pitting dread day by day. Saying them, putting up a brave front, was easier than acknowledging the uncertainty they incited.

“I’m not asking you to apologize,” he absently traced a finger along the piano’s frame beside him. “Just as you said, you were following an oath you made when you entered into the First Order. You were doing what you thought was right.” The light cast over his face rippled as his brow twitched up.

As confused as his present demeanor was making you, the rampant honesty was too much to shy away from. “If you don’t think I did anything wrong, then why –,”

“I didn’t say you didn’t do anything wrong. I said you did what you thought was _right_. I’m not ignorant to the fact that your actions saved him,” his hand smoothed over the maroon finish, the reflected galaxy gliding over his skin while he did. “I was impressed that you thought so fast on your feet – your passion for healing and helping isn’t lost on me.”

In an effort to find the words to articulate the blatant confusion he was causing you, your mouth formed the start of many words, all falling to cessation before escaping. His casualness only intensified your need for an explanation. “But – if you – why did you dowse me in blood and crack my windpipe in half?”

The blunt summary of the punishment prompted him to face you, his eyes more pointed than before. “The two events are unrelated,” he said, taking a step forward, a crease forming over his brow. “I couldn’t care less that you took the blood, that doesn’t affect me; that blood is replaced as it expires.”

It was a feat ignoring the mounting fire forming within your chest, threatening to dowse your tone in poison. With a steadying breath, you spoke. “How are they – what do you mean they don’t correlate? I stole the blood, I got caught, you found out, you got mad. Is that not what happened?”

“You left out one key part,” his eyes pinned you in place. “The one thing you’ve refused to do. Something that would have prevented the majority of your suffering – you don’t respect me.”

He took another step towards you, leaving just a few feet of distance. Off the piano’s glossy finish, another star glided through space, falling out of view behind his staggering frame. Testing his patience, the truth formed ready at your lips. “I was forced into this. You forced me to follow you across the galaxy like some trained pet, and you want me to respect you just because you tell me? Because you expect it?”

A sharp exhale, one that had been building for some time, left his nose, his fingers ringing each other below his waist – his temper was wearing thin. “I didn’t have to keep Hux from scheduling your execution.” He took one step closer, leaving only inches between you, the heat of his dwindling temper whispering over your frozen skin.

It was like talking to a wall trying to get your point across. “I didn’t ask you to,” you said. “That’s what I’m saying – I never wanted this. I never asked to be here, but you refuse to appoint someone else. Why? What makes me so _fascinating_ , Commander? Why don’t you just fire me? It would be better for everyone.”

These words were much easier to accept – you so obviously didn’t belong with the other appointed care providers, and you knew your skills were barely up to par with them either. Him choosing you out of the blue made no sense; you were good at your job, but the Elite wanted someone who could be perfect, someone they could bend to their will. It was the smart decision to let you go, even if the thought tore through your insides.

The muscle under his eye twitched, his face leaning down to yours, his breath warming over your nose. His eyes burned with that same raw emotion from before, again proving the existence of that unattainable person behind them. “I –,” he started, pausing before he continued. “You -,” he attempted again, words seemingly evading him.

He was so close, the stars reflecting into his wide pupils. When had he ever been at a loss for words? “I what?” Looking between his lips – the dim light of the galaxy contouring them in its abstractness – and his eyes, you yearned for that impossible _more_ you knew to be just out of reach; its presence growing more visible behind his auburn as the seconds passed, taunting you with its closeness. “Why can’t you just say it and get -”

“I trust – you.” His sentence was broken and fragmented, his breath to match as the admission winded him; the three syllables came at all differing volumes, the first booming, his volume faltering as the following two met it. His tone was indicative of an obvious discomfort in his acknowledgment of their veracity, like he had adopted your practice of saying them until he believed them. With his words came his hands, placed at either side of your head, tightened into pale fists.

Unbidden and without thinking, the first thought that came to mind left your mouth in an incredulous breath. “Why?”

The thoughtlessness of the question made you recoil into yourself, leaving you to observe the steady expression Kylo Ren was regarding you with, an unreadable scrutiny fogging his eyes. The seconds he held you there felt like hours, his eyes never leaving yours, his brow narrowing ever so slightly as he looked through you. With a quiet huff of breath, he pushed off the wall and turned away. “Nothing you aren’t already aware of.” He said, sitting to face you on the piano bench.

Out of his proximity, you could breathe, trying hard not to clue him in on the fact you’d lost the ability to begin with. Studying you, he began again. “Like you mentioned before, when I was – how did you put it – digging around in your head,” he stared back out into space, “I saw you that first night you were assigned to me.”

Taking a step forward, you waited intently for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt his admission. His throat bobbed while he gathered his thoughts, his stare still trained on the glass, stars streaking across his black clothing like water droplets. “When you figured out you were late for the Command Shuttle, and while RB-6745 was trying to console you,” his nose twitched at the acknowledgement of the stormtrooper, “you were worried.” He looked over to you, holding you in his stare, searching for something you weren’t aware of.

When you didn’t speak up, keeping his gaze in the dark silence, he continued. “Not about yourself or getting in trouble,” his attention fell back behind you before he went on. “You were only focused on the scenario that you wouldn’t be there in the case that I would… require your assistance.” He swallowed, looking back to you, carrying new weight behind his eyes.

He had no reason to be telling you all of this, but the fact that he was taunted that connection once more, like he was real, like that unattainable person was present for the time being. Another star fell, racing across the piano behind his shoulders.

Suddenly, you understood his earlier loss for words – they were important words. They were true words. And just as you didn’t know how to accept that you were on the precipice of losing your career, he didn’t know how to accept the fact that you cared for him. The night was filled with hard truths that neither of you wanted to acknowledge, knowing that as soon as you did they would lead to an unknown neither of you were prepared to understand.

In an attempt to express your words fully, you reached out to his shoulder, squeezing it in your grip, feeling his muscles flex beneath your hand. His eyes hadn’t left yours on your way over to him, and you kept them in yours, a silent vow of thanks. “That’s my job, Commander.” Chewing your cheek for a minute, considering your next move, you sat next to him on the bench, feeling him stiffen and then relax after a few seconds.

Staring out into the galaxy, his warmth on your skin - it felt right. The connection you felt could only be compared to friendship in this moment, no feelings of romance adulterating the trust that had been vocalized. It was similar to the moment of camaraderie you shared with Talia – but this was deeper, not only a promise of protection, but one of respect.

“Why did you tell me this? Any of it?” Keeping your focus on the galaxy, your periphery watched for any reaction to the question.

Two stars flashed across the glass expanse, lighting the room for half a second before he replied. “You’re worried about your career,” he took a deep breath, “and you’re accepting defeat.” He looked over to you, your eyes still trained on the stars. “You think you aren’t worthy of the position. You are,” he said. “You deserve to be here.”

Wrapped in enveloping darkness, his face was only half lit from the stars when you turned to him, pouring your eyes into his. The last thing you expected from Kylo Ren was a compliment, but for him – the root of your doubt – to confide in you that he believed your position was deserved? It was nearly inconceivable. It gave you the validation you had been starved for, doubting your place since you’d gotten the assignment. Unknowingly, he had gifted you the affirmation you didn’t realize you had needed, one that brought you to accept your purpose in the position, rekindling a flame you’d been neglecting since the beginning.

Peppering over his face – lips, nose, eyes – you frantically searched for any indication of the usual hidden intentions he kept. There was nothing. No narrowed eyes, no malevolence quirking his lips, no tightened jaw quivering with restraint – nothing. It frenzied you, the fact his words were stripped of innuendo, their meaning completely unadulterated and true. In a moment of deep appreciation, you took his face in your hands, stopping momentarily to trace his cheekbones with your thumbs. Having already searched his eyes for fallacy, you didn’t have to keep looking into them, but you did, admiring the stars showering through his pupils. Eventually, pulling him towards you, your lips pressed into his with a newfound fervor, sparks flooding down to your fingers and toes as something new bloomed in the night.

He met you there, his own hands locking you to him, their size dwarfing your skull. His tongue slid onto yours, deepening the kiss, losing yourselves in the connection, seemingly joining the stars beyond. The intensity charging between you rivaled the sun, your mouths colliding into each other, a fusion of two atoms of opposite charges, making the other whole. With his hands gripping into your hair, a small moan – inspired by shock and need – faltered into Kylo’s mouth, its hesitant resonance lost under the harsh breath leaving his nose. At this, his hands fell down to your hips and tugged you closer to him, wanting you nearer, guiding you with their strength.

The overwhelming connection was suffocating, flooding your lungs with hunger and urgency, petrifying your chest with the realization of the power building within you to clutch that person within him, to pull him into permanency. And it scared you, knowing that if you went further – if you were to pursue this rush of intimacy molding your mouth to his – you would not be able to come back from it; if you were to let yourself fall into this _more_ , there was a promise of no return, leaving you to burn for a man who you knew could never feel the same – could never burn the same – as you did for him.

In this storm of revelation, you forced yourself to break away from him, resting your forehead to his, eyes shut and hiding from the intensity residing in his, knowing it would evaporate your resolve. “Can we just – can we just sit here for a minute,” you breathed, your lips buzzing from the broken connection.

For a moment, he only held you there, his thumbs digging into your hips, his breath mingling with yours. Without a word, and with an inhale laced in finality, his touch left you – his warmth following suit – and he stood, peering into the celestial shower beyond the glass.

In the absence of his touch, you were collateral damage; standing apart from you, even just a few feet, Kylo Ren had not only nullified that terrifying promise, but he had proved you right: the person residing behind his burning auburn eyes would only ever be ephemeral in their existence. The night had brought another hard truth upon you, the stars seeming to stop racing altogether as it did.

“The Command Shuttle will depart at twenty-two hundred tomorrow night,” he said, his voice now infuriatingly vacant. “It would be wise to get some rest, officer.”

While he walked ahead towards the stars, his hands balled into fists at his sides, straining with white as he peered out into space. Watching them flex and relax for a minute enlightened you to your statuesque posture, not yet having left the broken moment in time. With a swallow, you pushed off from the bench and started back to your room. As you did, though, you remembered what had earlier brought you to seek solace in the stars, the storm of returning to Starkiller and facing Robbie emptying the air from your lungs.

“The day after we landed,” Kylo said, his voice echoing through the shadowed room, your stride halting as it did, “I instructed Captain Phasma to demote him.”

If his intentions were to soothe the sudden anxiety he’d sensed in you, he’d failed completely – the information only frayed your nerves that much more, allowing one last torturous glimpse at that elusive notion of _more_ you knew was too temporary to trust. As you stood there, once more flayed by Kylo Ren, hot tears threatened to spill over.

“Goodnight, Commander Ren.” The words left your mouth with a falter, your heart ripping from your chest, every hard truth the night revealed weighing it down until it left you completely.

Crawling into bed, limbs limp with emotional exhaustion, your chest bled for what it had earlier ran from – that promise of no return was now a mirage of the past, never to be offered again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay FIRST - please go back and read the kiss with Nicki Minaj's "The Night is Still Young" playing. I don't know why, but it just works and it's what fueled this chapter.
> 
> Here's [what could have been](https://strongtwiheart.tumblr.com/post/620305004793905152/kyp-chapter-12-wchb). I hurt myself in not letting it end with this, but I thought it was too much too fast. 
> 
> And this was probably very jarring and not what you might have expected after last chapter, but I promise it was necessary. When I read, I love chapters that focus on developing relationships and not necessarily directly relate to the plot. They serve a very important purpose to me.
> 
> Tell me what you think, fight for what you believe in, and give yourself some grace. This world is crazy, and we're all taking it a day at a time.
> 
> \- ST


	13. Leverage Over Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to face what you've successfully avoided for quite some time: Starkiller Base and all of its misery awaits.

Time ticked on and burned through your lungs, still strapped into the Command Shuttle ten minutes after it had landed on Starkiller Base. The dreaded moment had arrived – the inevitability of facing Robbie was waiting for you beyond the threshold of the ship – and you were evading its excruciating awkwardness, feeling safer in the confines of the ship than in the wide-open Elite docking bay.

The ship’s engines were still settling, providing background noise to your internal impasse. It was a wonder your nails were still in place after picking at your cuticles the whole trip back, sitting silently in a back corner where the shadows shielded you that much more. In the hours before departing from the Finalizer, you had created a mental image of the Starkiller docking Bay, noting how far it was from the ramp to the elevator lobby, inwardly approximating how fast your pace could be without looking completely ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly be as bad as you were making it out to be, but knowing you’d have to face him no matter what – no matter if he’d been demoted – unleashed havoc on your nerves, frayed them at the mere thought of bumping into him beyond the hatch.

“I told you he was demoted,” Kylo said, voice agitated within the helmet, his back to you as he studied the flight stats before him.

In the crisis-state of your mind, you’d forgotten you weren’t alone, and you hadn’t been for some time; the flight from the Finalizer carried multiple passengers, among them being General Hux. He’d left right when the ramp descended, but before had sat next to your master, occasionally making a sweep around the ship, sneering every time he passed your secluded hideaway. Not that Hux’s presence on board had granted you solace, but so long as he was there, you didn’t have to confront the gnawing confusion Kylo Ren had bestowed upon you the night before.

This was something you had made a conscious effort towards not thinking about, knowing full well that Kylo Ren, especially when he was only feet from you, knew exactly when you were thinking of him. Though, these weren’t the usual free-floating lascivious thoughts he was accustomed to calling you out on; these were edged with a bewilderment you had only first experienced when awaking earlier.

This morning, before you even had a chance to process the anxieties today’s return entailed, you were first confronted with the reality of the night before; fractured remnants of its events, fleeting remembrances flashing through your thoughts in an incohesive disarray while your groggy brain worked to piece it together. In the dim light of your room, the thoughts begged the question of reality, leaving you to wonder if they had been conjured up in a dream before you woke. With a strike of goosebumps and a gasp of breath, though, it quickly became apparent that it had all been real; the fragmented cognizance glittered over your skin, collating back to chronology while the morning fog lifted from your eyes and adrenaline replaced your blood.

The night had come back to you with a fortified vividness that shocked you out of bed, the frozen concrete further pulling you into alertness. The morning was haunted with the vulnerability shared the night before, a ghost without the stars to anchor it down. _The stars_. Kylo Ren’s pupils – so close and raw – had been streaked with them, falling in the endless night of space as he confided in you. He hadn’t wanted to, the reluctancy edging his admission – _I trust you_ – trickled through your revelations, echoing as his proximity spread warmth over your cheeks, the memory of his breath nearly tangible as it floated in and out of thought.

Another shatter of electricity spread over your scalp, prickling even the helices of your ears as his next words rang through with a startling clarity: _you deserve to be here_. They’d bounced around your brain, amplified with each repetition, an endless loop testing their tangible existence. But they did exist, and they were spoken, and Kylo Ren was who had spoken them.

Trembling, your fingers traced over your lips, remembering your response to those words, nonverbal and voracious, while your electrified pulse thrummed in your ears. It was nothing new to kiss him, but the way in which you had was uncharted in its entirety. In the cover of night, only the stars to bear witness, you had brought his lips to yours, branding them into your memory as they burned new on your skin. It wasn’t how he returned the fervor of your lips, or how his hands left traces of warmth lingering over your skin as the night’s events replayed before your memory-clouded eyes. What made your skin ignite at the thought was how close _he_ was. Not physically, although that only inspired more sparks at your spine, but how near you felt to whoever hid behind the guarded eyes you’d come to expect.

The event had been fighting for dominance over your anxiety of returning for the entire day, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place when trying to ward it from your thoughts while strapped into the Command Shuttle – your two choices for passing the time being collecting dread about seeing Robbie again or having Kylo Ren know how last night, its closeness almost sacred, had racked you with confused trepidation. Despite your best efforts at rationalizing its occurrence, you only continued to drown, silently, in its obscurity. With this being the first time he’d spoken to you all day, not even acknowledging you when you’d boarded before take-off, you felt relief in the possible fact that he, too, didn’t understand the situation and also wanted to disregard it as thoroughly as possible.

It'd only been a few seconds since he’d spoken, pulling you from the storm that’d been deepening the closer Starkiller became. “I don’t remember saying anything about – anything,” you said, concentrating on your lap, watching your twiddling thumbs.

“I advise you, officer,” he said, standing from the pilot’s seat and turning towards you, “to stop pretending.”

_Oh no_. He was not about to bring it up, _right_? “Pretending about what?”

His visor was trained on you across the ship. “It’s aggravating having to feel someone else’s fear – especially when they have no reason for experiencing it themselves.” His modulated voice was dwarfed within the small ship, even so sending a shiver down your spine.

At least he was keeping up the ruse about last night. “What am I supposed to do? Just not care if I run into Rob-”

“You’re supposed to listen to me,” he said. “To insinuate that the stormtrooper has any leverage over your life is to mock me.”

“Why do you think this has anything to do with you?” After a long pause, you unstrapped from your seat and walked up to him. “I can admit I made a mistake with Robbie, but I also know I can take care of myself.”

“If you believed that, you would have left when the ship docked.”

“Why are you spending time trying to convince me that I’m scared? We both know I am,” you said, looking out past the threshold. “But if you’re trying to tell me that my being afraid of leaving here is in vain, I just have one question for you, Commander.”

You looked back up to him, his chrome-slit visor directed down to you. “Choose your next words carefully, officer.” There was new tension in his modulation; you were wearing on his nerves.

Looking down to his belt, noting the weapon residing in its holster, you swallowed and met his stare. “I’ve never asked for, nor wanted, your protection in the past. Why would I need it now?”

His chest rose slowly, a new heat wafting from him as your words stung the atmosphere. “You need to leave. Now.” It was a growl.

“Why? So you can just ignore-,”

Like time hadn’t processed it correctly, his weapon ripped from his side and illuminated your face and ears with red waves of fury, sparking uncontrollably at the head before it tore through the door frame, leaving orange splinters of rage along the destroyed metal.

It was an autonomic response, your feet stumbling back, tripping over themselves as you fled away from the Command Shuttle. Not long after you left the inclined of the ramp, your legs sprinted away from the terror he wrought the ship with, listening as the durasteel screamed, envisioning the wrath-colored sword eviscerating the interior once again.

The further into the open docking bay you ran, the more nervous you became. There were stormtroopers everywhere, and it wasn’t the fact that you had grown more aware of their presence since Robbie; no, there were at least ten pairs visible at any given moment, surveying and standing guard. A thin veil of sweat sheened over your face after passing the third pairing, your breathing heightening after the seventh; this was your own personal hell – and it only got worse.

Approaching the elevator lobby – after a valiant effort to not pass out before arriving – you spotted a red flame atop a rather unnecessary swath of black fabric. General Hux was waiting for an elevator, his two white-armored goons accompanying him at either of his shoulders.

Steadying yourself – correcting your posture, smoothing your uniform out, wiping the sweat from your forehead – you walked up to his left, careful to stay in the periphery of the stormtroopers.

“Officer,” Hux said, not turning his head to acknowledge you, “how fortunate am I that I caught you before retiring for the night?”

The pretense in his cheery voice elicited an increase in your already quickened heartbeat, simultaneously confusing and irritating you. “And why would that be, General?”

He hummed to himself for a second. “No more Armitage?” He asked, recalling your bold words during your meeting on the Finalizer. “Good to know Commander Ren’s castigation seemed to pay off, then.” He looked over at you then, his face pompous and snide. “Sad to say, though, that won’t be the end of it.” His brow twitched in mock concern.

His words sent your body into hyperdrive again, jolting your nerves with refined dread, tightening your chest. “What do you mean?” The words fell in a dull succession, an effort to keep your unease hidden.

“That’s why this run-in is so kismet,” he said. “I needed to inform you of our meeting tomorrow morning at O-eight-hundred, and now I don’t have to waste time on an email.”

The elevator dinged open, and Hux and his posse stepped in. “Why do I need to meet with you?”

“Remember that report your friend wrote up?” One of his men pressed a button on the hidden wall. “Yes, well, the Board of Physicians has some concerns relating to your practice.” His face twisted with malevolence, proud of his fruitful efforts to expel you from your position.

With his words – _Board of Physicians_ echoing at the forefront – went the last remnants of your breath. The medical board of the First Order knew about your theft, knew how you stole from them, how you meant to cover it up. You knew that the deed wouldn’t go unnoticed or unpunished, but the idea of the Board of Physicians knowing your name under this pretense nauseated you.

“General, what did they say? What’s happening?” Your words were shrouded in urgency, your chest constricted with the imminent horror of just how close you were to losing everything.

“See you in the morning, officer,” Hux nearly sung, the elevator doors sliding closed over his unprecedented intolerance for your presence.

The walls seemed to close in on you, your vision dizzying, your hearing fading in and out. Another elevator opened, an outpouring of stormtroopers clambering out with no regard for you, shoving your limp body as they stampeded into the docking bay. When they’d all filed out, you fell into the open shuttle, grasping at the wall support to keep you upright, jamming the button for your floor.

Once enclosed in the confines of the apparatus, your lungs exploded, your hands meeting your knees as you heaved, breathing like you hadn’t known oxygen in years. The sharp inertia of the elevator plummeting to your hall only added to your fit, sharpening the blow with a pounding headache. In an effort to stop your world from spinning, you shut your eyes and slowed your breathing.

“One, two, three,” you counted, remembering the training you’d received at university on how to ease a panic attack, never expecting to use the information for yourself.

Between your counting and your purposeful breathing -in through the nose, out through the mouth – your head stopped buzzing, and you opened your eyes. In a moment of clarity, you realized you had been avoiding processing the existing potential at losing your career and life at the hands of the First Order – at your own hands, to be more precise. No matter how many times you said it aloud, no matter how badly you wanted to believe that you were at peace with dying in exchange for saving someone else, it would never be true.

As you fell floor by floor towards your own quarters, your anxiety was refreshed, a new attack building behind your ribs, creeping up your throat, filling your head with thoughts of extremes. The Board of Physicians – the heads of medicine in the First Order, the ones who grant the Elite egregious amounts of currency – would never see your crime as an act of desperation; they would only see the fact that you’d stolen from them, never considering the life that was at risk when you decided to do so. Hux would no longer be the one to schedule your execution, it would now be contracted by the Board of Physicians – and it was your fault.

“Are you alright, miss?” A voice interrupted your spiral.

The doors had opened without your noticing. “Oh, uh,” you stuttered out, snapping back to reality. “Sorry.”

Quickly, you checked the floor number and stumbled out of the elevator past the young woman.

“Hey, wait,” she called after you. “Aren’t you the one who lives in the last room on the left?”

This was doing nothing to quell your nerves. “Um, yeah, I guess. I haven’t been here for a couple months, though. Why?”

“Oh, okay. That explains it,” she said stepping past the threshold. “Just make sure to take all that stuff off your door – it dings the floor during inspections.”

“What are you talking abo –,” your words fell quieter as the elevator doors shut once more, leaving you alone in the hall. Shrugging off the disconcertion her words left you with, you made your way towards your door, finding exactly what she had been referring to.

The door to your quarters was decorated with various new contents that hadn’t been there before you’d left, the most notable being the black and red caution tape zigzagging across the metal frame, barring the ID-lock. On top of it was a yellow maintenance notice, reading:

_Concerning the tenant of this dwelling,_

**_Damage reported on_ ** _: 8th_

**_Repair made on_ ** _: 12th_

**_Description_ ** _: ID-lock found forcefully removed, door shaft hydraulics manually disbarred. Components repaired, not replaced – door face retained minor aesthetic damage not deemed essential for repair._

With your nerves already shot, the shock this brought barely registered. Upon further inspection of the notice, you found it was reported two days after your departure to the Finalizer. _Aesthetic damage_. Stepping back from the door, you took it all in at once – the tape, the notice, and now multiple indents pummeled along the metal. Running your hands over the damage, you found it took a familiar shape, forming to your knuckles when you balled your fist, only slightly bigger, an uneven match. Tracing along the door, your fingers ran over a rough patch surrounding the repaired ID-lock, tiny trails splaying outwards from the technology.

Ice replaced your blood as your heart sunk to the floor. Taking your hand, you traced your nails along the same pattern the indents made. “Oh, _god_.” It was a whisper, shaky as it left your lips. The indents were fists of ill-tempered rage. The trails were scratches from prying nails. The maintenance report had been filed barely after your departure. Every piece of evidence whirled around before you, terror creeping into your blood and draining the life from your face. The truth of your environment slammed through you, slitting your lungs open: Robbie had done this.

There was no other explanation – Robbie had come back here the night after you left him. He didn’t know you had left Starkiller. He thought that you would be behind the door, readily available to bludgeon just as he’d done to your door. This was an act of an animal, rabid with primal, unadulterated rage.

The moisture left your mouth, your tongue turning to sand as you stood there, haunted with regret and fear. Another shaky breath leaked from your lungs, shock coursing through you, panic filtering through your blood. Even so, you couldn’t move, your legs not listening to your brain’s pleads to run. Thoughts were coming at you too quickly, not registering their answers – what would’ve happened if you had been here? Would this have ever happened if you never agreed to go out with him? How do you get moved from this floor? Where – _where are you supposed to go tonight_?

Mason. His name lit your brain with a bolt of lightning, a fragment of hope lighting the shrouded corners of your vision. Fumbling with your phone, you dialed Mason’s number, the screen shaking in your trembling grasp. It rang, and rang, and rang, but finally, he spoke.

“Hey!” Mason said, his voice offering solace in the torrent surrounding you.

“Mason, I need your help, please tell me –”

“Op! Got you! I can’t pick up my phone right now because I’m saving lives. I’ll return your call when I can.” The prerecorded tone of Mason’s voice took with it the last whisper of faith that had been residing in your heart. A robotic voice requested you leave a message, but the phone already dropped limp at your side, your grasp barely supporting its weight.

Helpless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and entirely helpless. There was nothing to do, nothing you _could_ do, to remedy the situation. Fleetingly you thought about reporting the situation, regarding the time it would take to process through to the legal department. Another aspect further barred you from peace and shot down the potential for justice – you were now viewed as a criminal in the eyes of the First Order. They would quicker deem you responsible rather than look into the report and reprimand Robbie appropriately.

“Oh, please, please!” You whined, voice broken and tired, tears flowing unbroken down your face, blurring your already fractured vision. Falling against the damaged door, you slid down to the floor, a ragdoll to any passersby, lifeless against the metal frame. Every part of your life seemed to have all simultaneously fallen apart tonight, leaving you a conglomeration of nervous thoughts and wet cheeks. Fingers itching for a distraction, your hand traced along the lettering of your uniform’s embroidery, mindlessly outlining the words, mostly focusing on three letters: R – E – N. After a few minutes of doing so, your head emptied itself, the only thoughts remaining being those guiding your fingers over the threading. R – E – N. R – E – N. _R – E – N_.

Gasping, you grappled up from the floor, pushing against the door for support. Without wasting another second, you sprinted back to the elevator, mashing the buttons to shoot you back up to the Elite docking bay. So long as you were still employed by the First Order, you still had access to Kylo Ren’s personal assessment room, locked-up and ID-protected in the Elite med bay, offering at least one night of fear-free shelter.

The elevator tore you away from the nightmare you’d left behind, the thought of having even a second of peace made your skin buzz with anticipation, the rising floor number above the door slowly bringing your heart back down from hyper speed with its promise of safety. But when the indicator chimed and the door sped open, welcoming you with the open expanse of the docking bay, still overflowing with pairs of stormtroopers, your blood screamed, wanting anything but to fight through the crowds of soldiers while seeking refuge from one who might be amongst them. With your head bowed, you began your trek, staying close to the wall with the aim of keeping a low profile.

The patrolling stormtroopers did not make it easy to skulk in private, requiring you show proof of ID with every pairing passed. It was ridiculous – were things with the Resistance really so bad that they had to keep this degree of constant surveillance? Shaking your head, appeasing the white-armored men, you stayed close to the perimeter, surveying the area yourself, cursing the First Order for requiring helmets for their soldiers.

As the door to the assessment room grew closer – Starkiller was not afforded the seclusion of a private medical wing – you could feel your breath coming back after it seemed you’d been holding it since speaking with Hux. The ID-protected hatch would protect you from any dangers lurking about the Elite floor, the thought offering your body a break from the current crisis state burning your veins with its paranoid exigency.

With a quick swipe, a chirp from the scanner, and a hiss from the hatch, you were home safe within the confines of the assessment room. It was much smaller than that of the Finalizer, but it still contained the object central to your plans – a padded assessment table. Sighing, you ran your hands over the cold black leather, remembering its icy bite on the backs of your thighs. Looking past the table, though, you spied the linen cart across the room.

As bad as it would be to get caught with his cape around you a second time, the thought of freezing to death in the sterility of the assessment room overthrew your want to find Kylo Ren’s good graces, if you could after the way you’d left him tonight. Without hesitation, you first unpacked a pair of his lengthy socks, remembering you left the other pair on the Finalizer, and pulled them up one at a time, never forgetting the feeling of how he kissed at the tops of them before kissing further up your leg, and eventually to your sex. Shivering at the memory, you ripped another folded cape from the cart and wrapped it around yourself; it was comically big, trailing along the floor before hopping onto the assessment table.

Within the cape, behind the protected hatch, safety worked diligently to replace the rampant horror that’d been hunting you since your return. Here, nothing could hurt you; not Robbie, not Hux, not the Board of Physicians – it was a haven from all that had gone wrong in your life, all that was to go wrong once you left for Hux’s meeting in the morning. Everything outside of that hatch was a distant memory so long as your head was against the stiff leather, your fingers tracing the infinitesimal cracks in its texture.

Of course, this was only a bandage to all that haunted you beyond the temporary salvation, but for now it was what you had. In the latex perfumed air of your make-shift refuge, sleep evaded you, only coming in short, superficial spurts. But eventually, after your shivering had startled you awake several times, your body gave in to necessity and you fell into a limbo of half-consciousness, offering no peace from what awaited you beyond your slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a crazy, crazy week. A lot of stuff happened with this fic. I'm glad it did. I am realizing the phrase "too much, too fast" is becoming my MO, because I really like to jump the gun when it comes to character development. Next week you were all supposed to get something completely different than you are, but I think what I have written for fourteen will mesh a lot better. It will also allow for a more in-depth story, so overall it is well.
> 
> The only sad part about it is the 7800 words residing on my computer that will never see the light of day, but - I just finished up 7500 words that WILL. So, that's good.
> 
> As for life update? I got my highest grade on a nursing school test on Thursday (a 94), and I got to announce a scholarship I was accepted for. 
> 
> I love to hear from you guys, especially on this chapter as it went through a lot of editing and changes, even as late as yesterday. Okay. Stay safe, look at all you have instead of all you don't, and unplug for a minute. It really helps for the anxious mind.


	14. Down for the Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jaws theme is playing throughout this chapter, it just wasn't relevant enough to the plot to mention it.

“Let’s not waste any time, shall we, officer?” Hux said, eyes concentrated on the tablet in his hands, storming past you into his office.

The night had not been restful; your back was recovering from the unforgiving exam table, its intended use not one of comfort, but necessity. Along with the incessant pang radiating at your tailbone, the lack of sleep had outfitted you with reddened eyes and an overwhelming headache, every too-loud sound and overbearing light a throb at your temple. Even as you stood to enter into Hux’s lair of career-ending lecturing, you found comfort in the fact that you wouldn’t have to return to your sleepless confines before the day was over.

With one last steeling breath, you pulled your shoulders back and followed in after Hux, taking in the familiar space, unchanged since your last time being here. Hux had already sat down before you’d entered, still focused on his datapad. Whatever he was looking at was no doubt aimed towards the severing of either your ties with the First Order, or the ties between your head and body – either of which he was excited to take part in.

“General,” you said, taking a cautious seat across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this early encounter?” The words were mostly civil, only dipped in mockery.

“And it is a pleasure, officer,” he said with one final aggressive tap to the screen, staring at you in malevolent glee. “Now, I should first inform you that you are still contractually bound to Commander Ren until your official denouncement by the Board of Physicians. Other than that, this is the beginning of the end, I am disheartened to say.”

“I’m sure of it.” The goal was to make it through this meeting without digging a deeper hole for yourself, and that meant taking Hux’s snide comments in stride and withholding your own snark.

“Although I thought it was counterintuitive, I am legally bound to tell you that you will be under heavy surveillance. Not only in your practice as a physician – which will be _extremely_ limited while the investigation goes on, by the way – but in your day to day life as well.”

“What? Why?” The words were quick and emotional, coming before you could stop them. He raised an eyebrow, the outburst only offering him more reasons to expedite your dismissal. Clicking your tongue, you regathered yourself. “I’m sorry, general. Why am I being watched?”

Keeping your stare, he slid the datapad across the desk. “The Board of Physicians has deemed it necessary to not only question your competency as a provider, but also your character as an individual.”

Finding a vague familiarity in the event, you half-hoped for the door to rush open and Kylo Ren to come take you away. To your dismay, however delusional and misplaced, the room stayed quiet of the hydraulic hiss, the only sound inhabiting the room being that of the cyclic boots of patrolling stormtroopers beyond the office. With a swallow, you took the tablet into your own hands and scanned over the screen, finding another legal document. This time, though, not displaying the pointed script of Kylo Ren, but that of another familiar face; within your hold was Talia’s incident report, scanned into its electronic existence from her original penmanship.

“I trust you’re aware of what that is, yes?” Hux asked.

His voice was muffled, background noise to your focus on the document. Not reading a single word, too nervous to know how she told the story, you mindlessly scrolled through the pages, regarding its length even in her small script. Nearing the bottom, there was an occasional edit, a typed word among her handwriting. Looking closer, you realized the necessity of the print, noting the original penning had been defaced with interruptions, splotches of dried tears contorting her testimony.

“Oh, Talia,” you whispered to yourself, reaching for the stitching on your chest, fidgeting your sorrow along those three letters just as you had hours earlier.

“Didn’t she do a wonderful job at recounting the occurrence?” Hux’s voice pierced through your pain-laced reverie. “Truly a professional if I’ve ever seen one. Her dutiful reporting of the event proved her allegiance to the First Order, allowing her to receive a warning instead of a sentence.”

“What is your purpose in showing this to me?”

“You’ll eventually get your own copy,” he said. “I figured you’d need a refresh of the events that led you here.”

“I… will never forget that day, General Hux,” you said, peeling away from the tablet.

“Good. You’ll need that ability of recall when you go in front of the Board of Physicians to state you case.”

Unrelated to the environment, a chill fled over your skin. You wanted to believe that he’d misspoke, but he would never mess up relaying anything so pertinent. The Board of Physicians had called for your presence. It made sense, your actions – a crime in their eyes – had directly involved them, their existence being what funded your position, though you never thought they would think it necessary to summon you for a trial. Yes, ethically you had messed up, but you had thought this would be a quick loss, not one that incited you ever coming face to face with the heads of your profession.

Although you’d worked hard at staving off the endless dread since leaving the assessment room, it now slowly crept into your stomach, tightening your chest in its clutch. In the throes of budding panic, your leg sprang up, bouncing silently, a conscious effort to not let your heel hit the floor. “Why do I need to present my case? They should know what happened by now.”

He cleared his throat. “And they do, which is precisely why they called for your audience. Since you were _selected_ for this new endeavor of provider assignments, they are concerned that their investment in the First Order isn’t paying off as they had intended, and by your formal appearance they seek to revise the program for the future.”

A huff of air flared your nostrils. “They’re making an example out of me. How nice of them to choose public humiliation instead of execution.”

His brow creased. “I don’t think you quite understand,” he said. “You have been accused of first-degree larceny. You _will_ lose your license after appearing before them, but the basis for your execution is subject to their judgement.”

“What have I done that would justify the end of my life?”

“You stole from the First Order, byway stealing from the Board of Physicians. Contrary to what you may want to believe, your actions do have consequences, miss,” he bit your last name off.

“I _stole_? I saved a man’s life by taking blood that would have expired had I not thought of it. How can they not see that?”

“It doesn’t matter what you did with the blood, although you will be questioned on the ethics of transfusing a blood product that had not been properly crossmatched. What matters is the principle. The First Order does not take any crime lightly, but with your being a beta-tester for this brand-new program, compliance among providers is a priority that is to be enforced.”

_Everything the Elite does is unfair_. Talia’s voice rang loud as you fought back the need to scream, to flip his desk over, to run to the nearest escape pod and shoot off to some far away planet where nobody could find you. It no longer mattered if their actions were unfair, now only caring that they were wholly unjustified, using you as an example, invalidly exploiting you to incite fear amongst your peers, to set a precedent. It was _wrong_ , lawfully and morally, and you’d had your fill.

“I don’t deserve to die. It is _sick_ knowing the backwards logic you’ve twisted just to rid yourself of me,” your voice was husky with restrained rage.

“This has nothing to do with me, officer. This is completely on you. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

“ _I did nothing wrong_!” You cried out. “I’m a convenient way of pushing some agenda that the First Order takes no prisoners. I’m not even getting punished for what I _did_ , I’m getting exploited to make a point, to act as some warning for years to come.” You were on the edge of your seat, ready to shoot into the ceiling.

Hux sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching you draw nearer to spilling over. He tsked, narrowing his eyes, confusion pinching his face. “What’s changed, officer?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In our meeting on the Finalizer, you seemed unphased by the prospect of losing your career. Now, it seems you’re fighting to stay here. Why is that?”

It was something you hadn’t considered. His question begged a truth you hadn’t yet confronted: you _did_ want to keep your assignment. It was as much a revelation to you as it was to him, sending you back in your chair, replacing your rage with quiet shock. What _had_ changed? A week ago you were actively trying to convince yourself you were okay with dying, but now it was all you could do to fathom the thought of merely losing your license. There had been so much anger residing within you; where had it gone? And why was Hux _right_?

” _Oh_ ,” you breathed, eyes fading into your memory.

_You deserve to be here_. Kylo Ren’s voice, soft in the night, echoed in remembrance; the figment of his past face cast is the celestial shadows remained vivid, a living memory, nearly tangible in its clarity. The admission had floored you when he’d first spoken it, and nothing had changed, still losing your ability to think straight as the words reverberated around your thoughts and stole your breath. You’d run from the bond in his words, too scared of their truth. But, that was just it; they _were_ true. There was no ill intent hidden behind them, the only thing residing in them an unadulterated sense of reciprocated trust.

His words should have lost all meaning when he pulled away that night, although you’d pulled away first; but, here, before Hux, you knew that Kylo Ren was what had sparked the paradigm shift. He had pulverized your heart that night, and you still hadn’t fully recovered, but it was undeniable, even now: the reason you wanted to stay was because you’d realized your purpose – the worth you now felt in your position had been solely provided by Kylo Ren.

“What happened to not wasting t-,”

“I deserve to be here,” you said, echoing your master. “No, I _want_ to be here. I have just as much a place in the Elite as Talia Harper does.” An incredulous laugh left you. “I _deserve_ this.”

Hux, alarmed by your newfound fire, sat forward, leaning on his elbows and tenting his fingers. “Those are powerful words. But I suspect you’ll need a stronger defense when convincing your superiors to spare you.”

“I’m good at my job. I saved that man; I’m not wasting time trying to convince you of that fact,” you said, no longer affected by his attempts at intimidation. “They can watch me all they want. They won’t find anything but the fact that I am a damn good nurse who has effectively kept the Commander of the First Order alive and well with no assistance.”

Hux’s scowl had returned in all its glory. “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” His eye twitched. “Later today you will receive an email informing you of all the expectations surrounding the trial. The dates have yet to be determined, but they are adamant in their desire to get this off their docket as soon as possible – for safety’s sake, of course.”

Unblinking, you stared back in silence, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He continued. “You will need to arrange for travel, as the trial will be conducted on Canto Bight over the course of one to two weeks, depending on the judgement you receive.”

“Canto Bight? Why wouldn’t it be held here on Starkiller?”

“The Board of Physicians’ headquarters is located there. You should know this, although I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t at this point.”

Cracking inwardly, you needed to leave before you spewed hell fire down on him. Clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders, you steadied yourself before speaking. “I’ll keep an eye out for that email. Now, is that all? Am I free to go?”

His lips pursed. “For now,” he said. You got up and walked to the door. “But, remember officer, you are barely _free_ from this moment on.” His eyes pointed to the upper corner of the room.

Sucking your teeth, you entertained him, tracking your eyes with his, finding a security camera angled down to you. _Such an ass_. “Have a nice day, General,” you said, slipping out of his view before he could get the last word.

The wide-open communal area of the Elite floor was even busier than last night, nearly double the amount of stormtroopers marching around. There also seemed to be an increase in employee population in general, the expanse buzzing with a constant influx of engineers, pilots and technicians. Maybe it was the fact you’d only been here during normal human hours once, only ever seeing the graveyard crowd when you’d reported for your shift, but every new encounter with the main functioning centers of the First Order painted a clearer image of the ever-rising tensions with the Resistance. There had been a few emails you scanned through mentioning an effort to destroy the Republic, but it never seemed pertinent to pay attention to them, feeling they didn’t have a direct effect on your life.

With your head tucked into your shoulders and your arms wound tightly across your chest, you walked into the thick of patrolmen, having no particular destination in mind. Halfway through your trek across the floor, your phone buzzed. Figuring your watch would have dinged if it was anything important, you kept your focus on making your way through the room. But it buzzed again, and again – urgent vibrations sounding through your uniform. Without breaking your stride, and keeping your head down, you pulled it from your pocket, seeing it was Mason.

Before getting a chance to read his messages, the screen lit up with his caller ID. You were in the dead center of the floor, everyone could see you, and though you wanted to be far away from the circling soldiers, it seemed safer to be visible than skulking in a corner; if Robbie were lurking around, he wouldn’t try anything so public. At least you hoped he wouldn’t.

On its last ring, you accepted the call. “Hey, Mason,” you said, peering around.

“Hey! Why did you call me last night? And sorry, Soto has me running forty-eights right now so I’m never around my phone,” Mason explained, grog in his voice, either just waking up or in the process of getting rest.

Last night flashed through your memory, recounting the damaged door, the scratch marks, the dents, the blaring red caution tape tying the terrorizing scene together; it quickened your heart, that feeling of all-consuming dread threatening to return in its entirety. The stiffness at your back pulled you back to reality, reminding you why you had called him. “Actually, I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while.”

The line stayed quiet for a moment, the bustling noises blockading you from hearing his tired breathing. “I mean, of course you can. You know that. But is there any particular reason? Is there something going on,” he attached your name to the end of the question, genuine concern rasping through his exhaustion.

“No, everything is fine, I’m…” The words came too fast, a defense mechanism you’d adapted to keep people from worrying about you. But this was Mason. He knew your tics.

“Spill. Now.” It was a demand, no hint of request in his tone, suddenly less tired than a second ago.

“I know, I do,” you said, pressing your hand against your forehead, scanning the room. “Do you remember that guy I told you about before leaving for the Finalizer?”

“I’ll kill him. What did he do to you? I swear, I - just give me a name and-,”

“ _Mason_.” You chided him, feeling like his words would somehow attract attention. “You’re not killing anyone. Just – I went out with him the night I departed, and it… didn’t go as planned. Okay?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with you not being able to go home?”

This was it. Telling Mason would only solidify your reality. “So, maybe it went a lot worse than planned. Like. A _lot_ worse. And I think he may have broken into my place while I was gone, and I’m really worried that if I go home that he’ll come and, and…” Your throat thickened, anxiety stealing your words.

“Oh my _God_!” Your admission had infused his voice with alarm. “Yes, yes. Come here tonight. I’ll call out and we can talk. Okay?”

“Mason, you don’t have to call out. I know how important your residency is. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“ _You_ are important to me. And I don’t want you to be alone, not with some psycho out to get you.”

His words warmed you, feeling something other than stress or fear or anguish for the first time in months. But, before you could respond, he spoke with an urgency, realization overtaking him. “Wait. Where did you sleep last night? Oh my – I’m so sorry, I-,”

“Hey, _no_. It’s okay. You were working. You didn’t know, Mason,” you said. “I slept in the assessment room. It’s private and locked. I was safe. Please do not blame yourself for something you couldn’t control”

A long breath left him, audible even with the synchronized marching swirling around you. “You’re okay now, though, right?”

“I am… trying my hardest. I just really need a break from everything.”

“Well I’ll be all ears tonight. I can pick something up for dinner if you want?”

“Mason, you’re already being too kind by letting me crash. Thank you, again.”

“You never have to ask. My door is always open,” he said, grogginess creeping back into his voice. “Hey, before you go, could you tell me what this bastard is called? I need to assign a name to the violent things I’m imagining right now.”

It was the first true laugh, however short or quiet, you’d had in a while. “Oh, Mason,” you said. “His name is Robbie. Technically. I’ll get into it later.”

“What does that _mean_?” His last word was a yawn.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Another yawn resonated through the phone. “Fine. See you tonight. Love you.” He hung up, potentially falling asleep before he could put his own phone down.

“Good to see you haven’t forgotten about me.”

As if you’d gone back in time, that same unease tore into you, robbing you of breath and stealing your equilibrium. It was him. This was what you’d been dreading since before leaving. Behind you stood the most uprooting factor in your life – Robbie was within feet of you, the familiar modulation of his voice immobilizing.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, sauntering into your line of sight. “You’ve been gone so long,” he rolled your name off, violating as the syllables left his tongue, “I’ve missed you.”

The absence of food in your stomach was a blessing, knowing the adrenaline contracting your body would have ejected it from your system by now. The thoughts swirling around your head were an amass of chaos; echoes and amplifications of fear and impulses, conflicting in their commands – _run_! Don’t _run_! _Punch_! _No, kick_! _Scream_! _Stay silent_! It was all you could do not to fall forward, your knees trembling, readying to give out any second.

“Speak to me with that beautiful voice. I’ve been imagining it for months now, telling me how sorry you are for leaving me.”

What did you have to be sorry for? To him? Snapping your face to his, you snarled, chin trembling. “Excuse me? _Sorry_? I have nothing to apologize for.”

He hummed, the sound nauseating. “You’re so cute when you’re angry. Is this our first fight?” He circled your wrist in his armored hand. “Let me make up for it, baby.”

“Get the _fuck_ away from me, you _freak_!” You growled, struggling against his grip, flinging your trapped wrist until it broke free. There was a lasting ache where his fingers had been anchored.

“Hey, hey. No need for hostility,” he said. “I’m just so happy you’re back.”

Your heart threatened to burst your carotids, pulsing angrily over your entire body. “Oh, you are? Why? So you can break into my apartment again? Maybe finish the job you’d had in mind before you realized I was gone? Hm?”

This got to him, his hands wringing at his sides as his posture hardened. “I hadn’t seen you, and you left without saying goodbye.”

“How would you know if I didn’t say goodbye? In my memory – which, by the way, is exceptionally clearer than yours of that night – you passed out drunk before I got the chance. Or do you not remember that?”

“You little bitch,” he barked, drawing the attention of the passing stormtroopers. “Who’d you tell, huh? How’d you get me fired from Ren’s detail?”

Defensively, you took a step back, distancing yourself from his reach. “You did this to yourself, Robbie.” Wanting to hurt him back, you pulled your claws out. “Oh, wait, please forgive me. I meant RB-6745. Forgot for a sec-,”

“My name is _Robbie_.” The words tore through his throat as he lunged forward, reaching out to you.

“RB-6745,” a voice called from behind him. It was Captain Phasma. “Why have you abandoned your station?”

She walked militantly towards you, her chrome armor glinting with flashes of white as she passed by coupled soldiers. Robbie’s hands clutched below his waist, her presence bringing reluctant resolution to his outburst. When he turned, your face fell from its tight contortion of fear, not having realized you’d flinched away from his incoming assault.

“I apologize, captain,” he said, irritated at her interruption. “I thought it was my break.”

Phasma stopped about three paces from you, staring between you and your masked mistake. “Commander Ren’s ex-charge has had trouble adjusting to maintenance duty,” she said, your reflection bouncing off of her chrome helmet as she addressed you, turning to Robbie before she continued. “Come. I’ll show you back to the engine sector, as you seem to have forgotten the route. _Again_.”

Phasma motioned Robbie to lead the way. He turned back to you, leaning down and bumping your side against his shoulder in his passing. “This isn’t over,” your name a curse on his lips once more.

Phasma stopped in front of you before following after him. “I didn’t come here with the intention of rounding up one of my men, but it seems I can kill two birds with one stone.”

Clearing your throat, you pulled your shoulders back, her presence commanding the respect that Hux’s never could. “Captain?”

“Commander Ren instructed me to inform you to meet him in his assessment room. He says it’s a pressing matter.” She marched past you, not waiting for a response.

You stood there motionless, still standing at attention, listening as she led Robbie away. It was easier to stay here, to forget what she’d told you and pretend that there was nothing waiting for you beyond the assessment room hatch. But there was. In your nervous rush this morning, more focused on being extra early for Hux’s meeting, you hadn’t thought to tidy up your temporary dwellings; the room was still made up with a loose cape draping over the exam table, two stray socks strewn about the room, and an open bottle of hydrogen peroxide – a makeshift mouthwash in lieu of a toothbrush. And now a new addition – clothed in black, hands undoubtedly balled into fists – awaited you. There _was_ a pressing matter, but it had nothing to do with Kylo Ren’s well-being and everything to do with your soon-to-be lack of.

Considering it was like wading through mud to break past the shrouds of stormtroopers, your nerves had already worn thin since stepping into the docking bay, but acknowledging how you’d left Kylo Ren last night – his flaming sword of rage swinging destruction around you – the journey back towards the med bay was not one of a casual stride. With a quickened pace the hatch came into view sooner than you’d hoped, simultaneously wanting to get there to explain yourself while also wishing the floor would swallow you whole so you wouldn’t have to deal with Kylo Ren’s theatrics. Within a couple strides, the door slid open, revealing the undeniable presence of your master.

“This’ll be fun,” you said under your breath, smoothing over your uniform with nervous hands.

Passing through the threshold, it whirred shut behind you, its motion sending a rush of chilled air over your legs, whipping the back of your skirt to the side. Kylo was on one side of the exam table, clutching the cape, one of his socks hanging loosely from his other hand. Hidden in his helmet, you could only assume the eyes boring into you matched the fury of his fist.

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” you said, tone hesitant and low, guarding against a reappearance of his lightsaber.

His hand stayed rooted in the cape; his warped voice venomously low. “Then explain.”

Staying close to the wall, you circled around him, leaning against the metal counter behind you, grasping onto the edges. “I had to sleep here last night.”

“That is evident, officer.”

“Okay. I couldn’t go home last night.”

“I can make you talk. You know this.” His hand lifted the cape, clutching it up to his chest.

Swallowing, the metal ridges of the countertop bit into your grip. It felt like admitting why you couldn’t go home was accepting a defeat, like he’d won the argument pertaining to your need for protection. You chewed your cheek, looking down at your feet and closing your eyes. “I did actually go home last night. I didn’t just stay here out of preference.”

“Then why?”

“When I got home,” you sighed, looking back over to him, “I found my place had been broken into. And I’m pretty sure I know who did it, and I didn’t feel safe sleeping there.”

“The stormtrooper,” he said, dropping the sock to the ground. “That’s who you think did it.”

“Uh, yeah. There was a maintenance report that said-,”

“A maintenance report?”

His interest surprised you. “Yeah, the lock had been tampered with and the door had been… defaced. Scratch marks, dents. And it had been reported a couple days after our departure for the Finalizer.”

“A couple days after seeing him,” his voice was eerily calm, like he was only trying to understand you.

You paused to look at him, analyzing the intent that remained hidden with his eyes. “And before I came here, before Phasma told me to meet you, I ran into him. Well, I don’t know if I’d describe it so casually, but nonetheless.”

His hand came back down, freeing the cape from his grip, letting it pile up on the table. “How would you describe it?” He began circling towards you.

It was too much to verbalize the fear Robbie had incited, wanting to pretend he didn’t exist. “I… don’t know.”

“You’re afraid,” he said, drawing closer with each careful step. “You think he’s watching you, stalking you like prey – that’s it, right?”

Swallowing, you wished he didn’t possess the ability to feel everything you did, pinpointing your emotions better than you could. You nodded, looking up to his visor, his frame working to consume yours as the distance closed between you.

His hands came down next to yours, brushing the sides of your pinkies with his gloved grip. He leaned down to you, his gaze centered on your eyes. “You can’t stay here again.” It wasn’t darkness in his voice, or even command; he was only stating what you knew as truth.

The sound of his muffled breathing flourished over your arms, your own breathing newly audible. “I know,” you swallowed. “I’m not. I figured something out.”

“Did you?” His hands dropped from the counter to wander over the fronts of your thighs, skimming his thumbs just under the hem of your uniform. “Tell me, where are you staying tonight?” He leaned into the crook of your neck, the brush of metal eliciting the heat of your cheeks.

You breathed out, his teasing touch evaporating your train of thought. “With a, with a friend.”

His leather-covered fingers rooted just below the curve of your ass, his thumbs sliding up and down, streaking sparks in their repetitive paths. “Mm, wrong answer.” Kylo dug into your thighs, tearing your feet from the ground, propping you up onto the chilled counter.

The metal bit at your skin, making you seethe at the contrast. He parted your knees so he could stand between them, tracing his hands over the excited skin; the warmth of his gloves washed over you, stealing your focus as they slipped under your skirt once more, his thumbnails dipping just under the seams of your panties. With a steadying effort, you gathered your thoughts. “What? How am I wrong?”

His breath was getting thicker at your ear, his unaltered voice trickling through the modulation at his proximity. “You’re staying with me.”

In the throes of his distraction, you distantly regarded your meeting with Hux, remembering the surveillance order hanging over you. “I can’t,” you said, reveling in the feel of his thumbs inching ever closer to the apex of your thighs.

“I’m not asking.” Your core throbbed at the nonchalance of his voice, so sure and casual.

At the stitching of your panties, he hooked two fingers below the thin fabric, dragging them perpendicular down your slit; his gentle petting caught your breath, pulling you from your defense. “I’m being watched,” you said, the words falling as your lungs did. “I have to at least appear professional.”

He hummed, the modulation vibrating down your neck. “Your trial. I thought you were fine with whatever consequences your actions presented.”

The tips of his fingers slid between your folds, pressing around your entrance, forcing a small moan from your lips. “I was,” you breathed.

The pressure at your entrance slid up your slit; his fingers rolled your clit between them, the seams of his gloves offering an additional friction over the sensitive bundle. His other hand pressed into the pliant flesh of your inner thigh, mindlessly kneading it while your lungs chorused for his touch. “Past tense. Why is that?”

The sensation of the rough leather slick with your want robbed you of words, feeling his other digits stroke over the outside of your folds as they tortured you with their leisure. “I realized,” you said, tone shaky, “I may deserve to be here after all.”

Just as you were when he’d said them, he was immobilized; both his hands stopped moving, relaxing and resting in place as his head pulled away from your neck, your core pleading for his action to resume. But he only stood there, staring at you beyond the mask, the indecisive path of his eyes evident over your skin.

“Where do you deserve to be?” His voice was low, the modulation cutting out subtly.

Grinding against his hand, begging him to commence his earlier advances, you gaped in front of him, gaze pointedly aimed into his visor. “You know where.”

His hand left your slit, forcing a snuffed whine at the absence of his touch. “Tell me, officer. Where is ‘here’?”

There was something irresistible about his teasing, sitting here, legs splayed to receive him; your chest rose, absorbing his hidden stare. When he lifted his hands to either side of his helmet, your heart picked up in anticipation, your blood rushing at the prospect of his enamoring face. The locks hissed and he ducked out of his confines, shaking his head to clear his face of any stray strands. Not taking his eyes from yours, he placed the helmet beside you.

He pulled at the fingers of his gloves, separating them from the tips of his digits. “I won’t ask you again,” his jaw wasn’t set, lips slightly lifted at the corners, twisted in the subtlest of smirks.

“Here…” You looked over his features, silently praising his freckles, in awe of how such a sweet feature could be present under eyes so haunted.

“Yes,” the tail end of your name rose in pitch, a question, lascivious and redundant.

“Here is,” your focus shifted down to his lips, heart fluttering faster imagining them against yours. “Here is with you, as your provider. Appointed by you,” your breath shuddered, his lips fluid before you, “under the First Order.”

He hummed, face sly as his brow raised and his chin pointed towards you, placing his gloves with his helmet and returning his touch. With his hands on either of your thighs, your body buzzed as your pulse took prominent residence between your legs. His head advanced so the tips of your noses nearly touched, his breath mingling with yours. Flitting between your eyes and your lips, his eyes held the same appreciation for you as yours did him. “It only took you a couple months.”

“What are you talking about?”

His thumbs pinched into the crease of your thighs, his fingers splayed over the curve of your hips. With his lips whispering against yours, short shocks lighting at each accidental meet, he closed his eyes, prompting yours shut immediately after. “To listen to me.”

He pressed his mouth to yours, lips soft as his need reigned unmatched; it was a collision, a bludgeoning, a massacre of every atom separating you in an attempt to brand his mouth to yours. The intensity residing in his fervor fluttered your heartbeat, your core surging with chaos to find his touch again. Without leaving your lips, he slid you away from the counter, your extremities binding yourself to him as he carried you to the exam table.

Your head fell back over the piled cape, smelling the leather below, admiring its owner above. With your knees framing him, his hands slid down your thighs as his lips fell to your jaw. “Are you going to keep listening to me?” He said, the words divided as his lips traced to your neck.

As he knelt forward on his knees, his arms clutched into the edges of the table at either side of your head, you reveled in the heated shelter of his body. Without prompt, your knees locked around him, wanting him closer, needing him against you. It was in vain, though, his strength too much to overpower. One of his hands reached between his legs, mussing with his belt and layered uniform.

“Tell your friend,” he said, seething as his cock sprang away from its constriction, “you found other plans.”

Peering down over your chest, you caught view of his length, bobbing as he moved over you. You swallowed, your hands gripped around the flexing muscles of his upper arms. “I can’t.”

At your ear, Kylo grunted, tearing away from you and sitting back on his knees. He looked over you, palming his erection, face blank while he gathered precum at his tip and smoothed it over himself. “Roll over, then.”

There was no emotion to his voice, flat as his face was. You pulled back your elbows and rested on them. When you opened your mouth to contest, his eyes flared in warning, a brow lifting to question if you really wanted to challenge him. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you gathered your legs and turned over so your chest was against the exam table, face flat against the now warmed leather, hands at either side of your face.

“Better,” he said.

Behind you, his hands came down over yours, his nose tracing over the helix of your raised ear. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock, and then tonight, in my quarters, you’re going to have another lesson in obedience.”

He pulled away, quickly lifting your hips so your knees and forearms bore your weight, the leather slippery beneath your warmed skin. He stood on his knees behind you, flipping your skirt up and pulling your panties down to your knees. Your name was a praise from his lips, a stark contrast from when it had come from Robbie. “Always so wet for me,” he said, pushing a finger from your entrance and down to your raised clit.

You bucked into his hand, moaning, needing more. “Kylo, you have to understand, I ca-,”

His touch left you, but quickly came back with full force, smacking against your exposed entrance, a wet echo filling the room. Every muscle below your abdomen clenched, your fists balling at the sides of your head. “I do understand, officer,” he said, smoothing his hands over your ass, digging his fingers into your hips. “But you need to understand something yourself,” the pleasant presence of a familiar pressure grazed your entrance, stretching you in its tease. “I don’t care.”

He pulled back on your hips, sheathing himself against the tight, drumming walls of your core. A long, drawn out groan tied itself to an awe-inspired cry, garbling out into nonsense as he shattered your pelvis, splitting you open to receive his merciless length all at once. With your hips high and his hands locking them to his, your walls sparked around him, feeling him throb inside of you.

“It’s been too long since this pussy broke for me,” he seethed, even out of sight you could hear the strain of his jaw. “ _Fuck,_ I forgot how good you feel.”

He pushed your hips forward, sliding out of you, absorbing the feel of your walls’ compliance as he took nearly every inch from you. As he pulled out, your breath stuttered out in short pants, the hollowness tormenting as he’d just cracked you open. You whined into the table, sweat beading at your forehead, the palms of your hands sliding against the slickened leather. The head of his cock pulsed at the base of your core, stopping a moment before he rammed back into you, your knees sliding back with his force.

He bent at his hips, his chest molding to your back, the whispers of loose tendrils tickling your spine. A hand dipped down over your slit, two fingers running against your folds as he hummed behind you. “Where are you staying tonight, officer? Tell me.”

His voice was thick with breath, his words leaking onto your nape. A shiver bloomed goosebumps under his heat, the friction of his rough robes almost painful against your sensitized skin. No matter how he would try to convince you, there was nothing he could say or do that would change your mind. “Kylo, I can’t-,”

“Another wrong answer.” His other hand snaked over your throat, trapping any words that tried to leave. “You’re down for the count with no hope of winning. Give up, it’ll be a lot easier if you do.”

His hips began a rigorous tempo, slamming into you while his hand tied around your throat and his fingers slid into your slit, his frame completely devouring you, swallowing your body into nothingness below him. He used your throat for leverage, pulling back to meet his thrusts, grunts panting from his lips in beat with his hips. Every slam of his pelvis and swirl of his fingers catalyzed your release.

“You’re getting close,” he stuttered out between thrusts. “So fucking tight, coming undone – _shit_ – breaking for me. Such a slut, and only for your master.”

Beneath his hand, you wanted to moan, to hiccup into the room how good it felt to have him rocking against you. Even though his effort was aimed towards your defeat, you basked in how full he made you, the dull sound of your skin slapping with robes, the squeaks of voice escaping in spite of his grip; you knew you couldn’t stay with him, but that didn’t keep you from _wanting_ to.

“And you deny it, but you know it’s what you want – to meet me tonight, to have our lesson, to please me – don’t you?”

He lifted some pressure from your throat, a go-ahead for words. “ _Yes_ , I want that,” you panted. “I want to.”

“Yes,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming crazed, coming without a pattern. “Be a good girl, give into in.”

“I want to, Kylo,” you swallowed, sweat spilling from your brow. “But I _can’t_.”

“You can.” The hand maintaining your clit wound tighter circles, eliciting a searing need for release just beneath your skin.

“I, I – _fuck_ – Kylo, I-,” you could only whine, your body pummeled with his rampant push towards your climax.

“Where are you staying tonight,” he hiccuped your name. “Say it. _Scream_ it.”

Your walls were quaking, spiraling towards the abyss he’d opened inside of you. All of your senses were trembling, buzzing as you resisted his effort to send you flying over the edge. A pained whimper, filtered through tight teeth, left you, building into a more prevalent cry.

“Tell me!” He yelled, thrusting into you, hitting your cervix in time with his swipe over your clit.

“ _Fuck!_ With you, I- _Kylo_ , with you!”

With his body wrapped around you, the simultaneous strike of your cervix and clit, and the pressure clouding your vision – you let go, falling into a riotous, convulsive, all enthralling pit of pleasure. The growl that had resided in your throat, the one that had evoked from your attempt at resistance, had evolved into an endless string of astonished praise; it was a song you’d never sung, yet as he lost himself behind you – his hands bracing on top of yours when he fell forward, crushing you underneath him – he sounded as you did, creating a chorus of cries, a melody only known to each other.

He breathed at your ear, panting rampantly, off-beat with yours as they came between his. The weight of his body consuming yours only aided in the afterglow, your breathing obvious as his chest tided on top of your own. Every now and then he would swallow, the hiccuped sound popping next to your ear as his chin bobbed against your back. The peripheral image of his hands covering yours an added prize to the already hazed satiety which had enveloped you. He laid on top of you as he softened inside of you, staying there for an immeasurable amount of time.

To your disappointment, you couldn’t stay there forever; he sat up, a wince leaving you as he slipped out. Behind you came the shuffle of clothing and the clamber of boots as he met the floor. You were still recuperating when he came into view, his hand – gloved, yet again – smoothing over your sweat-stuck strands. As you turned to your side, he flipped your skirt back down, covering you as his cum leaked out from your core and onto leather that lied beneath.

He pinched your chin up, prompting you to crawl up on your elbows, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Twenty-two hundred. You know how I feel about tardiness.” There was a regard of fondness as he looked over your sated body.

You could only respond with the nod of your head, peering up at him, admiring him for all that he was in this moment – a beautiful man who wanted you to stay with him. With one last swipe of his thumb over your bottom lip, he gathered his helmet, ducked into it, and left you sprawled about in your own company.

After a few minutes, watching the radar on your watch to ensure his distance, you allowed your guilt to swallow you whole; you had all but promised Kylo Ren that you would come to him tonight, and although you wanted to appease him, to be with him in such an intimate way as to lie next to him, you couldn’t risk your life for something as temporary as an afterglow or a rush. Tonight you would go to Mason, a welcome break from all life had thrown at you in the past twenty-four hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing all the different interactions. As I mentioned last week, this chapter was supposed to be completely different. I will not be releasing the alternative as I have plans to use some aspects at another point. 
> 
> I cannot promise a chapter for the next week or two as I have a paper due this Saturday and will need to focus my writing and time on that. I like to stay at least a chapter ahead, so I say two weeks to be on the side of caution.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought while reading. I love hearing from y'all. 
> 
> \- ST


	15. Come to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, maybe that wasn't the best decision after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Bloodplay-ish, verbal abuse, humiliation, violence, light bondage, Pussy torture

The bruising was nearly imperceptible after a week, even so you concentrated on your reflection, trying to rest Mason’s shirt over the ghosted mark splayed over your larynx. Mason’s apartment was never well lit anyway, acting as an additional cover for what had once required a skilled hand at concealer and powder. Pulling back on the shoulders of the borrowed shirt, you mussed with it until an exasperated sigh dropped your hands to your sides, a flat face staring back at you as you reluctantly surrendered after five wasted minutes of meticulous staging. Mason was always over-observant, a skill necessary for every physician, but only currently serving as a foundation to your overthinking.

“Hey, I threw your uniform in the washer while you were showering,” Mason called beyond the bathroom door. “It just finished drying. I’m gonna put it on the coffee table. Is that okay?”

Mason had always been a genuine person, always showing his affection in addition to saying it. After months of chaos, his little act of kindness warmed through your heart, a sense of home you had only ever felt when he was around. It had been so long since you’d got to spend quality time with him – gosh, it had to have been before graduation, before careers and superiors came into your lives – and it was nice having him near, feeling safe for the first time since returning to Starkiller.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you called back. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. How’re those clothes working for you?” His voice carried closer to the door. “I made sure they were from my pre-jacked years.”

A laugh gave way to something that resembled a smile into the mirror. “Yeah, _okay_ , Mr. Tough Guy. I’m sure your gigantic arms would shred this shirt to pieces by now.”

“Oh, so you think I have gigantic arms, huh? Why don’t you come out here and I’ll give you a ticket to the gun show?”

You shook your head in the mirror, rolling your eyes and smiling. “You are ridiculous, Mason McCarty. Sometimes I can’t remember why I’m friends with you.”

“Oh, yeah _right_. You know you love me.”

With one last primp at your collar, and a tug at the tied drawstrings hanging at your hips, you pulled the door open and leaned onto the threshold. Mason was doing the same, only mirrored, looking down to you, crossing his arms across his chest. He was wearing a rendition of what he’d given you, only less worn. He wasn’t wrong, though, his arms _were_ impressive. He’d gotten bigger since you’d met with him before the Finalizer.

“I _tolerate_ you,” you teased. “Don’t get it twisted.”

He tilted his head, his face falling into an exaggerated pout. “Is that how you speak to someone who got your favorite for dinner?”

The question made you aware of the familiar aroma that filled the room. You looked behind him, spotting the take-out bag atop the coffee table, your uniform neatly folded next to it. This was all so nice, like a sleepover, though you suspected this arrangement would last at least a week, long enough to scout out your apartment and get the locks changed.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “maybe I do love you. But _only_ for your food.”

The two of you bumped each other’s sides and laughed your way to the couch. Mason unpacked the bag, handing you a utensil and a handful of napkins before opening the take-out containers. You curled up into the corner of the couch, resting your food between your chest and legs, facing him as he dug in with you.

“So, now that I’ve provided you with food, water, and shelter, are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on?” He took a bite, looking over at you beyond your knees.

Life had looked so different since you’d last seen him; between Kylo Ren and your career, you were nearly an entirely new person. Though, instead of wisdom you had obtained an overwhelming amount of complications in your time away from Mason. Service between Starkiller and the Finalizer was only approved on official First Order equipment; your cell reception disallowing communication through space, keeping you from seeking Mason for gossip or encouragement when you needed it most.

Chewing the last of your bite, you quickly swallowed and rested your arms. “How long have you got?”

“All night, if that’s what you need. I’m worried about you,” your name was genuine on his tongue, true concern edging his tone.

“Jeez,” you sighed. “Where do I even start?”

The confessional acted as a refresher, a reminder of just how bizarre life had gotten while away. Mason had slowed his bites after you told him about your living situation, stopping completely after you walked him through the patient seizing and bleeding out. As you described the egregious scene, you subconsciously traced your hand over your throat, as if mentioning the events that had led to your bruising would make it obvious to him. When you told him about Talia, he seemed to have a peace come over him, like knowing you had a friend away from him had been a concern in your absence. He shared in your disgust over Hux, obviously angered at how much of a show he’d made of parading you through the communal area to his office.

“You called him _Armitage_? To his _face_?” He was stunned, at this point his food was getting colder, his hunger sated by your words instead of his meal.

“I will admit that it wasn’t the _best_ choice. But, Mason, let me tell you… it felt so good.”

His brow creased. “And he just let you off the hook? No suspension?”

Your stomach curdled, the sight of food making you sick. Setting your meal back on the counter, you took a breath. “Well, not for now, but… at some point.”

He followed suit, putting his food down and leaning in. He sat crisscross before you, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened to your explanation of the circumstances surrounding your career. His face fell as yours had when you brought up the Board of Physicians, realizing just how deep the hole you had dug yourself had become. He said nothing, only listening as you recounted last night in more detail, still shivering at the memory of the damaged door, the faded pain at your back reappearing when you mentioned the winter that was the assessment room.

“And right after you hung up, he appeared out of nowhere, like some ghost.” Robbie’s voice vividly replayed as your recounted your run-in from earlier.

“But… I thought you said he’d been demoted. Why – how was he there?” He was expressive now, angry with Robbie as you were scared.

“He wasn’t _supposed_ to be there. He left his station because he knew the Command Shuttle had returned.” Absentmindedly, you rang your hand around your wrist, the shadow of his clutch reappearing, the violation he’d wrought overwhelming even in the dim light of Mason’s apartment.

“And where is your – what was it – your _master_ in all of this? You’d think he’d care more about the wellbeing of the care provider he picked himself.”

Though Kylo Ren was the root cause of everything you’d just shared with Mason, you had purposely left out any detail that mentioned him; you knew it was necessary to stay with Mason, understanding that any video evidence of you coming or going to your superior’s quarters at this hour would only expedite the Board’s judgement, but you still felt unease over disregarding the commands of your master. In an effort to put him off your trail, you’d left your watch in the assessment room, hiding it in his spare uniforms and hoping he hadn’t also pulled Mason’s file. Here was where you were safe from everything – Robbie, the Board of Physicians, and the manipulation of Kylo Ren – and you kept repeating that thought, trying to drown out the blaring reminders of just how unsafe you truly were.

Mason’s inquisitions had successfully torn down your efforts not to breakdown. His face twisted into shock before yours fell into your hands, tears that had been welling up since this morning falling without will, spilling over your cupped fingers and down your wrists. Mason scooted over to you, pulling you from the couch and into his arms, your wet eyes pressed against his warm shoulder. He ran his hands up and down your heaving back, your breath shattered as sobs hiccupped through you. It was a release that your body hadn’t felt safe enough to let out, only breaking when it knew someone would be around to hold you together as the torrent decimated your outward façade of apathy.

He shushed you, one of his hands smoothing strands of hair behind your ear. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Mason, it’s not. It’s never going to be okay again.” The words left in broken spurts of muffled sobs. “I can’t fix this. I – I did this. All of this is my fault.”

He lulled your name, pulling you closer into him, seemingly keeping your chest from shattering. “You saved him, shh. If you believe that in your heart, you have to know that you did the right thing. And the Board will see that. I promise.”

He held you, his arms an anchor, keeping you from drowning in sorrow. Time was foreign, never considering its presence as your heaving lungs fell into gasps, and then into stillness. Eventually the only sound that you were aware of was how his heart thumped in his chest, strong and even – seventy-eight beats per minute, you regarded, mindlessly counting them out of habit. When you grew tired of his pulse, you focused in on his breathing, the clear sounds of his lungs matching the tide of his chest, leading your head with him. He’d rested his chin atop the crown of your head, his index finger continuing its tracing over your ear’s helix, the gentle touch the basis for your return from crisis.

Letting the security of his touch sink in for one last moment, you sighed and pulled back, his arms permitting your journey back to self-support. He kept a hand on your hair, his thumb tracing over your temple, his fingers splaying towards the base of your skull, an additional support as your puffy eyes sought his through hazed vision. Before recently, Mason had been the only person to see you cry; he never made you feel wrong about it, always riding out the storm and sticking around to help you rebuild. And nothing had changed, his presence right now only proving just how permanent a fixture he was in your life.

“How can you promise something you have no say in?” Your words were quiet, cracking at the ends.

“We were taught to never make promises we can’t keep,” he said, the dim light casting a heavenly contour over his cheekbones. “I know that you’re going to come out of this stronger than before. You know why?”

You sniffled and swallowed, looking between his eyes. “Why, Mason?”

“You won’t have to convince the Board of your character. They’ll know. Just like I do.”

“You know me.” The words were so simple, yet they swelled in your chest as you stared back at him, your eyes falling down to his lips for the smallest fragment of a second.

“I know you.” He followed in your glance, nearly imperceptible in its speed.

In the warm light, your heart seemed to glow at this exchange. Mason did know you. And you knew him just the same. He had been your safety for so long, a physical embodiment of protection whenever you needed or wanted it. Here he was before you, an incandescent reminder of the boy you’d yearned for, but knew was too unavailable to build anything with. Now, though, there was nothing stopping you from reaching out and taking hold of the energy surging between you; there was nothing to stop you from manifesting all that you’d pined after for all those years before settling on companionship.

You brought your hand up to his, matching your fingers over his and wrapping them across his palm. There was an influx of fluttering between both of your glances, a silent inquiry of _are you sure_ shared in the proximity. Another hand came up to grasp the other side of your face, landing with the intent of stability; his lips parted, yours following suit, and he brought your lips towards his. It felt foreign as you followed into his hands’ slow path, chin quivering as your felt the warmth of his breath brush over your mouth. With a final glance of consent, he closed his eyes.

With a swallow, you steeled yourself and let your lids fall, breath stalling as you waited for the feel of his undiscovered lips; when his forehead met yours, you searched for the intensity you’d once known for him so long ago, regarding the salient lack of want even in his nearness. This was the farthest thing from how you’d always imagined this moment before; in school, you had dreamt so often of being with Mason McCarty, imagining how it would feel to be chosen by him, to be the golden girl he’d end up with among all the others you’d witnessed leaving his dorm at all hours of the night. Something felt empty in his hold, though, like you’d grown to want more than the boy next door.

His nose pressed into your face, his lips only millimeters from yours, completely unaware of the inward turmoil consuming you as he drew ever closer. Before you could shove it all down and give in to what you had sworn you’d always wanted, the door to Mason’s residence hissed open, the sound ricocheting through the silence. For a fragment of a second, you were relieved, accepting the interruption as a way to delay confronting the lackluster of Mason’s touch. That was it, though, the fragmented moment of peace shattering when Mason’s hands tore away from your face, the rest of his body following as he flew away from you, crashing against the back wall, the collision’s volume suggesting his frame was now permanently indented behind him.

Kylo Ren stood at the threshold, masked, gloved, and fuming. One hand was held out, compressing Mason’s body and keeping him suspended; the other hand was balled at his side, gloved fingers coiled around a band of loose-hanging metal. In the fractioned second you spent analyzing him, you looked closer, noticing a red glow emanating between his fingers. It was your watch; you could hardly believe how small his hand made it appear, nearly imperceptible in the distance. It was a doomed and pointless effort to begin with, purposely leaving the tracker behind, though you’d hoped – however fruitlessly – that maybe it would have deterred him from hunting you down.

Mason struggled against the wall as you stumbled from the couch and onto the floor, your elbow slamming against the coffee table on your way down. Kylo marched forward, hand still extended, grip twisting into a fist. You heard the struggles of your friend, eyes squidged shut in pain while you rubbed your arm, listening as he fell victim to a suffocation you knew all too well. It was unclear in the chaos if the trembling you felt was your own or if Kylo Ren’s modulated growls were reverberating through the room. The footsteps drew nearer, opening your eyes and finding two black boots pointed parallel to your knees.

“It’s up to you how much he suffers.” Behind you, Mason stopped fighting for air, his lungs sucking in just enough to fuel the thrashing cries of pain that followed.

Jumpstarted by the blood-curdling shrieking, you bolted up, hopping over the couch like it was the natural thing to do, wanting to reach him as quickly as possible. His cries faltered, dying into quick pants as his body fought to find equilibrium. Unfathomable rage enraptured you, twisting your face into a snarl when you met the chrome visor behind you.

“Let him down! Stop this!” The words shredded against your throat, your face burning with new vehemence.

There was no response, at least not from your Commander; the next sound to escape Mason was inhuman, like glass getting compacted and magma getting cooled. You turned again to him, looking up to his face, finding it twisted to match the noise which shuddered your spine; his arms and legs were splayed out, sweat collecting at his collar as he suffered through a torture you were sure you’d never known.

“Why – _stop_! I can- please! He can’t take this! He doesn’t deserve this!”

“No, he doesn’t. I agree,” he barked, the words drowned in feigned sympathy. “This should be you.” His hand turned over, Mason screaming out with new volume behind you.

“Then stop! Please, just leave him be, whatever you want, just _stop_!” The only reaction your body had left was to spark seething tears, one falling over your cheek as you begged for mercy.

“Your word means nothing. This”—he waved your watch into sight— “solidified that fact.”

The endless cries ripping through the room were fraying your nerves, evaporating your wrath and replacing it with a deep, burning sense of desperation. A choked whine left you, air leaving in staccato and urgent gasps. “God,” you screamed, “please just stop. I _promise_! Just please, _please_ stop this!”

“Promise,” he spit the word, it’s existence a mangled sound of putridity. “Your virtue has even less value than your word.”

The howls of pain rang on, your patience for Kylo Ren’s torment wearing thinner with every new octave of his cries. Your back was cresting with each full breath, your head spinning in mayhem as you tromped over to him and gripped onto the arm twisting into Mason. Kylo’s visor bent down to you, the reflection of your heated expression a hyphenated portrayal as you caught view of your wet cheeks, the tears frenzied instead of solemn.

“Kylo,” you whispered, “just tell me what you want and you can have it. Just, please, let him go.” The words were buried, barely audible over the injury leaving Mason’s lungs.

He considered you, staring down at your pleading expression. You squeezed his arm, your face breaking into a desperate grimace beneath his stare. He’d taken your absence as a personal attack, completely disregarding the target on your back, like you hadn’t learned not to defy him at this point. And in groveling for Mason’s relief, you accepted that no matter if you deserved to be punished for disregarding his instruction or not, this was the only way you could ensure that Mason wouldn’t end up as collateral damage.

“Please.” Your lip quivered, a tear streaking to the corner of your mouth as you shook beneath his glare.

His arm flexed beneath your fingers, a final surge of terror ripping through Mason before he collapsed to the floor. Without thinking, you clambered down towards him, brushing his hair from his face, your fingers slipping over the sweat that had amounted. “Mason, Mason?” His name escaped in breathy gulps, your heart racing harder when his eyes weren’t opening. “What did you do to him?” you roared, fingers pressing into his carotids.

“Collect your things. We’re leaving.” Kylo’s voice was apathetic, unbothered by Mason’s limp body in your hold.

His pulse was there but weak, nowhere near the high seventies like earlier. His breathing was even and equal, coming slowly. The sweat that had gathered on his back acted to shift his posture, his weight taking you with him as you rushed to protect his head from the floor on his way down. His arm fell to the side, his lips parting and his jaw falling limp with exhaustion. Your fingers were smeared in his sweat, twisted into his nape as you smoothed over his features, hoping your touch would act as a salve while he laid beneath you.

“I can’t just leave him like this,” you sniffled, a tear landing on his chin.

“You will, or he won’t leave here again.” There was no hint of threat in the statement, only truth; a promise in the harsh modulation.

You blinked, two tears falling with the movement. “I’m sorry.” His brow was sweat-laden, too, your thumb gently brushing the moisture away as your eyes blurred, so ashamed of roping him into this. With a sweep of his hair from his forehead, you pulled his arm across his chest and stood at his side to face your master.

“After you, officer,” he said, the hand holding onto your watch motioning towards the door.

Sucking your teeth, you slipped your shoes on without breaking contact with his masked glare. Even as you meandered towards the coffee table to collect your uniform, you stayed locked into him, quaking with anger with each charged step. The animosity which laid within both of you was suffocating, only breeding more hostility as you walked past him with anger-twitching eyes. Kylo placed a hand on your shoulder, his grasp eliciting a short wince as it bit a bruise beneath Mason’s charity of clothing. Before the door hissed shut, one last shriek came from the room as Kylo popped the indented metal into its original unmarked condition, your shoulders shuddering at the echoed cries of the durasteel.

“How can you treat people like they’re expendable? Like they don’t matter?” He began leading you down the hall, his boot cutting into the back of your ankle when you weren’t keeping up with his stride.

Kylo didn’t respond, only digging into your shoulder to indicate a turn. With the length of his legs, you were half-jogging to keep him from running into your feet. You didn’t know whether to keep your head down or to keep a lookout for any cameras, feeling an unease being seen like this – baggy pajamas, work shoes, damp hair – with the Commander of the First Order attached at your back.

“I didn’t disregard your request to spite you, okay? If I came to you and I got caught and it was even suggested to the Board that I was sleeping with my boss? With my _Commander_? That would be it. That would kill me,” you explained, cataloging the halls he led you through.

Still no reply, only an increased pace with every new sentence, more pressure dipping into your clavicle. His grip was nearing a fracture, sweat collecting at your nape as you fought to silence the pain. In your periphery you spied the red indicator of a camera, flying out of sight as he propelled you down new halls, wider and taller as his quarters grew closer.

After one final turn, a door appeared at the end of an expansive corridor, completely alone in its existence. His fingers bit down further, the doors sliding apart at the gesture while you winced inwardly. Before you could step past the threshold, his hand unhinged and you flew past the door frame, landing with your hands braced and your knees skidding across the glossed floor.

“It seems you’ve forgotten who you work for, officer,” he said, the doors latching shut behind him. “I can have whatever I want without your offering. The only reason your friend is still breathing is so I can use him as leverage, as it appears the only way to get you to listen is to threaten what you value most.”

In your crash, your chin had collided with the floor, your teeth gnashing into the back of your tongue. As you gathered yourself off of your hands, a drop of the iron that flooded your mouth fell between your bent knees. The colloid pooled under your tongue, slithering down your throat as you sat back on your heels.

“What is so hard to understand about me not coming here?” He stepped closer as you continued to regather yourself, steps calculated and quiet.

“I understand you’re being watched. I know that your life is on the line, and for half a second I believed that you valued it”—he tore your chin up to his visor— “but that can’t be true.”

His grip led you to your feet as he stared down at you. “If you truly held any stock in your life, you would do as you’re told without question. Without doubt.”

Blood dripped over your lip and onto your chin as he anchored your jaw open, his thumb bending over your bottom teeth, depressing the tip of your tongue. “Tonight’s lesson was centered around this incorrigible mouth, but I think you need to learn the true consequences of your actions. Nothing less.”

Below, he kicked your fallen uniform to the side, walking you back so your knees gave way to the arm of the couch, your hands reaching back to support you along the black leather. A low hum left his helmet, his visor tracking over your laid-out body. “Now, to turn these into what they really are”— both of his hands took hold of your shirt collar— “rags.”

The thin fabric of Mason’s old shirt gave way to Kylo’s will like the threads had never been bound together, splitting apart down the center of your chest, past your naval, and through the bottom hem. The shredded article hung open over your abdomen, your chest tiding quickly as you watched his shoulders drag along as coarse breaths left his helmet. His knee anchored itself between your legs, his visor pointed at your face. He kept your eyes in his while his thumbs tore the tattered garment down your arms, leaving raised red trails in their forceful paths; with the fabric bunched over your wrists, the only covering left over your torso being your bra, he yanked it past your hands.

At the motion, your support gave out and your head fell against the stiff cushions. In his hectic maneuvering, once the shirt moved past your waist, his fingers gripped into the waistband of Mason’s sweatpants, their warmth leaving you with begrudging ease even as the drawstring was double knotted above your hips. The thick fabric skated past your toes, every hair on your body stick-straight as the frozen air punctuated your skin’s search for warmth. Staring down at you, the leather sticking to your shoulders, he let the shirt fall, keeping hold of your pants, turning them over as his visor pinned you in place.

“These, though, seem to possess an asset of my benefit.” Out of your view, you heard more ripping, only much shorter of a sound. Before you had time to question what his intentions were, he began wrapping the drawstring from the elastic around his gloved hand, pulling it until the opposite aglet met his palm. “Sit up.”

There was no life in his command, frozen as the atmosphere. With a swallow, noting the blood didn’t replenish itself when you did, you sat up straight, looking up to him with seething defiance. His boots echoed as he paced towards you, stopping before he passed behind. The string-wrapped hand dragged two fingers along your sternum, stopping as they tugged down on the bridge of your bra. “Take this off.”

“And if I don’t?” Your brow raised in challenge.

The hand over your chest quickly shifted its attention to your tongue, pinching it between two tight fingers, a pitiful whine leaving when it did. “This has never been a negotiation. Do as I say and maybe you’ll have use of this—” he pulled your tongue forward, scraping the undersurface with his gloved nail “—after tonight. Do we have an understanding?”

Denying your want to roll your eyes, you nodded. Though, he wasn’t pleased with this response, pinching down harder. “Use your words.”

Flames bit under your cheeks, furious with his intent to embarrass you. A heated breath fled from your nostrils. “Yeth, _Commanther_.”

“Hm, now do as you’re told.”

You reached behind your back, never leaving his stare as he kept hold of your tongue. The hooks popped behind you, the flat sound too loud in the silent room; the straps hung loose over your shoulders before you hunched forward to remove the rest of the garment, letting it fall between your parted knees. The leather left your tongue as he knelt down, his hands ripping your arms behind you and gathering your wrists at the base of your spine.

“Not that I can’t do this myself,” he said, voice tinged with sly, “but it’s more poetic if you’re bound by your own defiance.”

“For the hundredth time, I didn’t do it to defy you.”

He worked masterfully behind you, the string unwinding from his palm and wrapping around and between your wrists in that same pattern. “Keep talking, it’s making me eager to shut you up; making me hard with anticipation.”

The thin string grew tighter as he wound it to its end, finishing the restraint with a tight pull and a final knot. He stood again once he’d completed the task, taking grasp of your binding and pulling you up to your knees. His hand came to the back of your neck and pushed you forward, your face falling into the firm cushion as your hands struggled to protect you from the collision, finding no give in the ties. The position – face to the side, hips high, shoulders bearing your weight – offered no view of your master, only allowing you to hear his intentions.

The couch shifted behind you, your body swaying to the side as his weight shifted the cushions beneath your knees. The texture of his gloves came between the bend of your hips, your skin emblazoning at the contact. He hummed, following the low sound with a breathy, barely vocal laugh. “I could light you on fire and you’d still be dripping wet for me, wouldn’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question, one you didn’t want to answer even if it hadn’t been. A pressure came over your entrance, the friction of taut leather revealing the erection residing behind it. The sensation caught your breath, your resolve stifling a moan before he could revel in your pleasure. “Really? Nothing to say?” His hips left you, followed by the removal of one of his hands.

“Maybe this’ll make you speak up.” A cold, unyielding object stung at your entrance, your hips bucking away from it only after your core throbbed in remembrance of the weapon.

A pathetic whimper came unbidden from your throat, your face burning in embarrassment that every part of him, even those not physically attached, could draw a reaction from your body. “Did this make an impact?” The metal pushed against you, your walls simultaneously screaming for more yet clenching away from it. “Mm, it did.”

The unforgiving solidity of the weapon made you wail as Kylo pushed it into you, using his hips to nudge it forward while gripping your thigh and pulling you back along its unbroken width. Your core fluttered around the injurious girth, every muscle below your abdomen flexing in response, your breath nonexistent as your body internalized the pleasure-pain its presence incited. While he pushed it further into your center, he twisted the hilt, your walls buzzing around the scraping ridges which resided along the handle. Though you could barely register it, when his flexed knuckles met the skin of your ass, you finally breathed, taking a moment of peace before he pulled it from you.

But he didn’t, standing from behind you as your walls achingly thrummed along the stagnant object. He walked out of view, passing your head and walking further into the room. “Come to me,” he said, modulation cold once more.

A laugh of disbelief left you. “Yeah, _okay_. Just let me situate myself.” He was insane to think you could move like this.

“My patience is wearing thin, officer. I suggest you don’t test it more than you already have.”

This was his way at asserting his power over you, making you complete various tasks of humiliation. He knew just as well as you did that you were in no shape to move, let alone cross over to him. It was dehumanizing, and all you wanted to do was scream, to throw a Kylo Ren-sized tantrum. But by the new shadows in his voice, and how he was obvious in proving his point, you knew to release the retched sound burning over your axons would never work to your advantage.

Thinking it over for a minute, you decided to try and slide your leg down, thinking you could easily lift yourself from the sofa. As you attempted to execute the maneuver, though, you grimaced, the weapon biting into your cunt with new pain as it indented into the tissue it bludgeoned. Containing a whine, you bit your lip, face growing slick with sweat against the leather. Away from you, you heard the familiar sound of his strokes, ensuing more rage as he drew pleasure from this sight of you.

In a second attempt, you used your shoulders, rocking into the back of the couch for leverage and support. With one too-ambitious shove, you catapulted onto the floor, landing on your back, your hands aching below your weight in their awkward placement, the crossbars of the lightsaber biting into the backs of your thighs. The fall knocked the wind out of you, the frozen floor stealing your breath for ten seconds before the facilities for oxygen returned.

Behind you Kylo grunted, the sound of his gloved hand sliding over his shaft quickening. “I never knew my whore could be so graceful.”

A week ago he’d stained your body with blood, but the wrath you’d felt then couldn’t be compared to the ardent resentment he was eliciting with his blatant enjoyment of your suffering. Using them to your benefit, you pushed off of your bound hands and sat up, your back to him, taking a moment of rest before shoving against the couch and getting to your feet. The weapon shuttered your breath, your legs barely permitting movement in the presence of the intruding object. A sharp set of yelps came as you took your first step towards him, your face twisting in pain as the stride caused friction against your walls.

He'd positioned himself against the wall opposite of you, making the journey to him long and strewn out, allowing him to watch your hobbled venture as long as he wanted. You’d matched the sound correctly, watching him drag his thumb from his head and down his shaft, his back resting against the wall with infuriating nonchalance, like this was any other day for him.

“That’s it,” he said, modulation thick with need, “one step at a time, officer.”

To keep from tripping forward, you stayed close to the furniture as long as you could, legs flexing when your balance faltered. Eventually, though, there was nothing to steady yourself with, your strides shrinking in their reach as you walked in the vacant distance.

“Is this what you enjoy, huh?” you gasped, his lightsaber cutting into you as you stumbled forward. “The Commander of the First Order, so big and strong as he fucks his hand to the sight of his own nurse? Seems a bit fucked up to me.”

“ _Fuck_ , I’m going to enjoy this.” He thrust into his hand as you tripped forward once more.

“I didn’t defy you, Kylo. I was safe with Mason,” you said, closing all but a pace of distance between him and you, your legs trembling with exhaustion.

He slowed his strokes, staring into you past his visor, his breath audible through the helmet. After a long pause, his chest came down in a heavy sigh. “Kneel.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

His hand came up and twisted, the weapon shifting between your legs and causing the crossbars to shred over the sensitive tissue. Your weakened stance couldn’t tolerate the electric pain, your knees buckling beneath you, cracking against the glass-plated floor. Before any pain could leave your lungs, he rammed every thickened, throbbing inch of his cock past your teeth and down your throat; you gagged against him, a mechanical seethe leaving his mask at the hiccuped pressure.

“Finally, some peace and fucking quiet.” His hands framed the crown of your head, fingers stretching to the base of your skull and guiding you into his thrusts.

Tears sprung at your eyes, the sudden pressure shocking your sinus tracts into defense. “I get to decide when you’re defying me,” he tilted your head further back. “I decide what you deserve. And yes,” he growled, “seeing you like this, broken for me, by me, pathetic and pitiful as you obey my every command – not because you want to, but because you _have_ to – I obsess over it, your resentful compliance to everything I say; it’s what makes your defiance so maddening.”

Your arms began to strain, the pain trickling from your shoulders down to your tailbone, his weapon shifting with every thrust, making you wince onto his cock. “ _Shit_. This is exactly what sluts like you deserve,” he roared, voice frenzying. “Leaving me to go fuck some physician who can offer you nothing, let alone safety? Yes, you deserve this completely.” He was yelling now, the modulation garbling his words.

A hand left your head, the other gripping into your hair as drool poured down your chin and collected in the earlier dried blood. A loud crash came from behind you, the noise forcing a flinch, your core clenching around the metal, another whine leaving you, your hands throbbing as your blood attempted to bypass the cutting ties which constricted its flow. He thought you’d been with Mason. In the chaos that had entailed since, you forgot how he’d first seen you at the residence, face pressed against Mason’s, your lips so close they may as well have been touching. This was barely about your compliance and wholly about what he’d perceived as your infidelity. And even then, was it even cheating if there had been no set rules? Not that he’d ever seemed to be conscious of his double standards, but it was ridiculous for him to assume you knew this was a monogamous arrangement. The only thing he’d ever ensured you were aware of was the fact that he could have you whenever and however he wanted, never that there was any agreement of mutual exclusivity to be respected.

“And to have you – a nurse, a nobody – continually disregard everything I ask,” his voice was natural now, raw and aching without the heavy modulation , “it drives me insane; the knowledge that you truly believed he could protect you is infuriating.”

His breath was heightening, your jaw straining as he kept fast, unrelenting thrusts into your throat. The strokes were erratic, losing pattern as he began to lose himself. “Even when it’s for your benefit you still choose to defy me, fucking – _fuck_ – fucking whore.”

He pulled out from your throat, forcing you back on your heels, the weapon tearing deeper into you at the pressure. “Never tell me you what you think you deserve,” his hand was chaotic over his shaft, nearly colliding with your face in its ferocity. His breath stalled, and he growled, teeth clenched as a spray of spit veiled over your face, hot ropes of cum to join it, collecting onto your eyelashes and debilitating your sense of sight. “ _This_ is what you fucking deserve.”

He stroked himself through his release, breath coming in fast pants, dying into slow and separated sighs. A gust of air blew your hair over your ears, and the sudden feel of gloved thumbs swiping over your face permitted your sight once more, meeting the red face of your master, but also introducing you to the shocking sight of light, glinting over the rivulets of tears which streaked over his cheeks. It was disturbing at first, processing that his red eyes were for you, realizing that your decision had actually affected him and enraged him to this extent.

He shoved his thumbs into your mouth, not registering the taste as the expression which resided over his face haunted you with its familiarity. Once more he thought you’d abandoned him. Like those months ago when you’d come home late on the Finalizer, his eyes were ignited with that same sense of desertion. He was not justified in his actions, not that he ever needed to be, but you could acknowledge that this reaction wasn’t one foreign in its nature, but the only way he knew to reassert himself.

His hands left your mouth and reached behind your back, his eyes never leaving yours as he blindly unbound you. When you fell forward, your face pressed into his chest, his hands lifted you below your thighs, your breath seething as the movements caused the jagged weapon to shift within you; he placed you on your knees, one hand unmoving to stabilize you, the other clasping over the crossbars, gearing up to rip his weapon from your core.

The hand at your thigh gripped into you as he dragged the hilt out, your breath wheezing into his chest as it left, every inch leaving an immediate emptiness in its wake. A pain-sodden tear fell from your face to his skin, a gasp leaving as he pulled out the last of it.

“Kylo,” you said into his chest.

“That’s not how you should address me,” his voice wasn’t empty, instead guarded and rasped with the ghosts of his earlier rage.

You licked your lips and placed your hands on either of his shoulders, pulling away from him as his other hand came back to support you. “ _Kylo_ ,” you repeated, watching his face, aching as he looked at you with so much betrayal.

It was an impossible thing to choose how to express your sorrow while also preserving your earlier explanation of why you didn’t come to him. Though it felt unfair, you couldn’t help but feel a piece of your heart break as you looked into the shattered face of the person who had given you a purpose. Words continued to evade you, the only thoughts processing being _this is your fault_ , _this could’ve been helped_ , _what kind of nurse abandons her patient_? They burgeoned in your head, capitalizing your indecision in how to say the right words without betraying your own beliefs.

“I didn’t – I’m… I can’t,” you grunted, your thoughts clamoring your words into stuttered nonsense. “I will never abandon you.”

It seemed like the best way to get to your point, maybe not encompassing everything you needed to say, but emphasizing on the highlights. His lips parted, breath falling out before you. His eyes twitched, no response coming to him as you analyzed every tiny change, watching as the wetness which plagued his cheeks dried as time passed.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you said, realizing what else may be haunting him. Every feature on his face stopped. _Bingo_. “I was going to… I thought I’d want to, but…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze drifting between your eyes and down over your lips. “But what?” It was a whispered, raspy sound, so new and surprising.

“Something’s changed. Different.” Your looked between his eyes, over his freckles, and down to his lips.

“Something’s changed.” He repeated.

And as your energy charged into his, you found yourself completely yearning for his lips to be on yours, for his hands to be in your hair, or on your face, or his touch anywhere on your body at all. That was it. It wasn’t something that had changed. It was _someone_. And though you knew you had felt something for him before, accepting that you’d lost the last piece of whatever it was when you left the stars that night, you never knew how focused that feeling had become until you were forced to recognize that you no longer felt that way for anyone else other than the man before you.

His hands ghosted over your curves, trickling electricity in their trails until they buzzed in place over your cheeks. He brought your face to his, his lips enrapturing yours in the kiss you didn’t know you’d been seeking. It was powerful, how his mouth moved in rhythm with yours like he knew your every thought. He began to stand; as his legs straightened, he kept his spine bent, his hands unmoving from your face. You threw your hands up to his neck, teasing the coil of hair at his nape as your thumbs traced along his jawline.

He moaned into your mouth, his tongue gliding over yours as his hands moved down your curves before he bent down and took you from the floor, prompting your legs to wrap around his waist while he walked you through his quarters. You collected the remaining tears from his cheeks, either with your thumbs or dragging them along your own face as you kissed down to him, your hands brushing through his thick hair, reveling in the closeness which flourished between you both.

Distantly, a door hissed open and shut, and before you had opened your eyes, your back was against an expansive mattress. Kylo pulled away, your neck following him as long as it could before he was too far. He kept his honey eyes focused on yours, his hands working hard to remove his outer robes and padding. Even in this small distance, your body ached for his, the seconds burning beneath your skin as your core pleaded to be filled by him. Only him.

He threw his shirt off and loosened the fasteners of his pants, letting them fall and kicking them off before he climbed back on top of you, trailing kisses up your sternum, into your breasts, and up your artery as he made his way back to your face. He whispered your name into your mouth, legs positioning himself so the head of his erection slid between your folds, a moan leaving you as the sensation sung through every vein in your body.

“Kylo,” you whispered back, legs locking over his back, fingers treading through his locks, binding him to you in their hunger.

He took your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head beneath his own. He gazed down to you, his fingers winding between yours, his eyebrows raising as a means of readying you. In response, clasping your fingers into his, lifting your face and pulling his lips down to yours. He thrust into you, sating the void his weapon had incited. A cry left your mouth, the first one that wasn’t inspired by pain, but instead by need. By want. By completeness.

The grip on your hands tightened as he pulled his hips back, a groan leaving him, the vibration of his chest buzzing through your own. The friction of his body over yours was other-worldly, feeling simultaneously familiar and new. He rocked into you, his lips falling down to your jawline, sucking new bruises in their path, feeling heavenly when his teeth would scrape against your skin with urgent want. Without saying anything, as he knew everything you felt, the Force engulfed your aching clit, never having felt as powerful as it did now, your back arching into his chest as you cried out against his hair.

Everything combined to create a sense of celestial wholeness – the smell of his sweat-damp hair, the taste of your dried blood washing from his tongue to yours, his skin igniting atop your own, the way his cock made your walls chorus with sublimity. His thrusts came faster, the Force quickening and increasing in its pressure, his hands tightening further; he had constructed your release in minutes, sending you soaring into a limitless reality only he knew how to create.

“Oh, Kylo. Kylo. _Kylo_ , _Ky_ …” His lips pressed against yours just as he fell in line with his own release, moans ricocheting through his mouth and yours.

The hands which strangled yours loosened, staying in place as his pulse jostled into yours, his head falling just below your chin. He stayed there, his weight bearing over you, his breath brushing over your forearm as his bare chest tided with yours. Though it seemed misplaced as only minutes ago he’d tormented you, with him now, here in his sated state, you felt a protection you’d never expected. None of this was ever planned, and even if he didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt right now, you knew you’d never willingly trade it for anything, basking in every part of himself that he offered.

Kylo took a final breath before rolling off of you, keeping one of his hands with yours momentarily as the other peeled the blankets from above his head. His arms gripped over your shoulder and pulled you against him, the sheets gliding beneath and eventually encapsulating your body to his. The breaths that fell from his parted lips blew over your hair, tickling the stray pieces which framed your face before you nuzzled into him and placed your hand on top of his chest.

“The Board doesn’t have any say over what happens to you,” he said, voice tired and absent. “I do.”

Not quite believing _he_ even thought that was true, considering he might be using your technique of saying something in order to believe it, you didn’t feel like ruining this quintessential moment. “Okay.”

And as you lied with him, listening to his heart – sixty-one beats per minute, strong and steady – you felt your own working to heal itself, coming back together as you promised yourself – inwardly, and however hopelessly – that this wouldn’t be temporary; that this had even the slightest chance at surviving the incoming monsoon life promised. And as you kept repeating that thought, you realized that your earlier dream – the one of falling asleep in Kylo Ren’s arms – was no longer a dream at all, the reality of his strength coiled around you being what lulled you into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. With twelve minutes to midnight, I did get it up. I've been writing this thing all day (given I'd been avoiding writing it all week, buuut), and I think it works. I apologize for the length omg. Literally the longest thing I've ever written.
> 
> I didn't expect last week's response to be so... grand? I loved last week's chapter and I'm so happy y'all did too. Now, to work on next week's!
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts and reactions!
> 
> \- ST


	16. Wake-up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew men's underwear could be so erotic?

Sleepy eyes peered around the mirror, examining the savaging which took new residence over your skin. All shapes and shades of dusk covered your prominences; one purpled puddle spanning your elbow, another three parallel over your side – one etching over your hip, another dripping over the curve of your rib cage, and the final fringing atop your deltoid in a russet starburst. A suggestion of a hand print fixed itself over your opposite shoulder, the bruise more vivid where your Commander’s fingers had bitten into the muscle. The grisly sight continued below your waist, both your knees inked in injury, one blotch creeping upwards in memoriam of the joint’s protrusions crashing against the floor. For once your neck remained free of the ghosted grip of Kylo Ren, the only evidence of him blending together in a patchy trail along your artery.

The tips of your fingers traced down the perforated contusions starting at the hinge of your jaw, drawing down the curve of your pulse, and ending at the proximal end of your clavicle; a violet twilight splayed beneath your touch, the memory of its fruition warming the tops of your cheeks. The reflection gave light to the faint lines which racked together over your wrists, the sight prompting the mindless rolling of the joint to test its range of motion. To any unsuspecting onlooker you appeared a survivor of a gruesome tale, one that indicated a battle with some ferocious creature; in a way, you thought, that wasn’t completely false.

Every welt lingering over your skin, visible or not – the torment which your core had endured aching with each suggestion of movement – belonged completely to Kylo Ren. Last night he’d painted his own pain over your body, the ache of his anger obvious with even the slightest pressure over the affected areas. Though you knew this, knew that these marks were premeditated, you distantly regarded the comfort the echoed pain offered; while the night had been birthed in egregious wrath, its end offered a breath-stealing contrast.

In the full light of Kylo Ren’s bathroom, you brought your hands together before you, the mirror falling out of focus as they turned over and brushed over each other’s knuckles and tendons. The soft skin was painted with vestiges in the valleys between each knuckle, the sight reminding you of the intimacy which had created them, the irony of how a moment of such beauty could manifest in such an injurious manner lighting a spark at your spine. The frozen air of his quarters nipped at your bare skin, reminding you what had prompted you from the warm, yet vacated, covers: the search for clothing.

Waking up had been disorienting, jolting you past the haze of morning and into the acknowledgment of the unfamiliar environment. It felt hollow waking up alone, like you were on some separate plane of reality without Kylo’s presence in his own bed. Out of habit, you’d gone to search for the time on your wrist, only remembering the timepiece’s absence when its red-shining face didn’t blind you in the shadows of early light, artificial in its existence, which framed the ceiling.

It had been too chaotic to get a good look at the Starkiller quarters last night, but as the frozen floor bit at your toes in your walk through the unfamiliar space, you noticed how mundane the provisions were. Everything lacked in comparison to the Finalizer, noting how the smaller rooms and shorter walls created a false sense of hominess; there was barely a kitchen, no dining table, and a hint at a sitting area – all of which blended together in various shades of similar blacks, greys, and whites. It felt uncomfortable to think that the Commander of the First Order lived in such normalcy and necessity when he wasn’t killing innocents or training to do so.

A pile sat at the countertop’s center, your uniform obvious at the top, the red embroidery prominent even in darkness. After a short search, you flicked on a light and padded towards it, crossing your arms as your breath shuddered through the cold air. It was a curious sight, your uniform folded into a frumpy square as your bra poked out from beneath the collar and your watch sat parallel above the red threading. Confused alarms sounded in your head, the fact that Kylo Ren had spent time collecting your belongings and compiling them into a neat pile making you doubt your consciousness, momentarily stopping to see if you had only been imagining the past few minutes.

Something else stole your attention, bringing your eyes away from the stack and up towards a rectangle of paper. It was folded in half, its torn edges and faded print indicating it had come from some scrapped document he no longer needed. Reaching for it, you found something underneath, a soft piece of unfamiliar black fabric. Then, when you lifted it, something slipped out from its confines, a black plastic rectangle glinting beneath the overhead light; its familiar design quickly indicating that of your Finalizer room key. Squinting in effort and inquiry, you read the hand-penned note, skin igniting as your leaned into the icy counter and half-admired the pointed scrawl of your first name at the top left-hand corner.

_I’ve arranged for your residence’s security to be updated and reprogrammed to this key. Return there unless otherwise indicated._

_You’ll also need these_ , _as yours are tucked into the fasteners of my uniform._

_Thanks for the keepsake, officer_ ,

_K.R._

With a hesitant curiosity, you took the folded fabric and unfolded each of its creases. It was a pair of his briefs, the sight eliciting a heartbeat between your legs. An astonished gasp fell from your lips, your face burning with exhilaration at the thought of your panties – unwashed and nearly three days old – stowed at his hip, their presence only known to him and you. As you imagined the frail stitching hanging loosely at his waistband, your thighs clamped together, the shifted bones of your pelvis crying out in protest at the sudden plead for satiety. He took your panties as a prize, spoils from last night’s conquest. _Such a sick, unapologetic, hot bastard_ , you thought, your face split in an unintentional grin.

Taking his donation in stride, you pulled the article over your legs, surprised to find the elastic resting easily at your hips. The material was stretchy, an excess amount of give indicating, though they could fit, they were intended for legs much larger than your own. The hem rested four inches below the apex of your thighs, your hands smoothing over the front, your thumb catching on the open flap which rested along the line of your inner right leg. The light sensation, sending tiny continuous vibrations over your mound, built on the prominent pulse beating at your entrance.

Kylo’s face, nonsensically beautiful, passed through your memory, your teeth pulling your lip between them as you thought of how his tongue felt over yours, how his breath ignited body-enrapturing sparks at your ear. A gasp caught in your throat, your thighs pressing together in need, your head bowing down into the counter while you filed through the endless thoughts you’d cataloged from previous encounters. _Congratulations_. A sharp throb came from your core, your hands grappling onto the countertop’s edge at the memory of graduation.

“ _Stars_.” The plead led into a moan, your throat thickening with need as your body ached for what it couldn’t have.

Closing your eyes and pushing a long breath from your lungs, your fingers dipped into the briefs’ opening, the knowledge that they were his frenzying you further, your skin reveling in the feel of the smooth fabric gliding over the back of your hand. The tips of your index and middle fingers trailed parallel down your slit, mind drifting to how Kylo’s could frame your sex in their length as they drifted closer towards your entrance, the thought seething a whine through your teeth. His modulated voice percolated in your ears, the way his breath falls out in proximity eliciting another merciless pulse, your abdomen tightening to absorb the ramifications.

Parting your folds, your fingers dipped into your slit, collecting the fluid which fled from your core. Just the thought of Kylo Ren – the way his abdomen ripples with every calculated step, the way his hair shifts in rhythm with his thrusts, the way it feels to have his full weight consume your body and alter your breathing – had worked diligently to ruin the fresh garment, your center preparing for a fullness it couldn’t currently achieve. Taking the pad of your middle finger, you pressed against the buzzing flesh of your clit, winding a wide, deep circle around it. A muffled cry fought to unlock your teeth, your head falling back at the taunting.

_Are you a good girl_? The melody of his past words crept over your skin, your leg crossing behind the other as you remembered his lips kissing the tops of his gifted stockings; a hum buzzed in your head, your fingers leading down to your entrance so your thumb could take residence over your clit. Hunching down lower, your head pressing down onto the smooth countertop as you took a wider stance, you pushed two fingers past your entrance, a shuddered whimper leaving your now parted lips. Your walls were throbbing, your pulse rising with each new reminiscent thought of your master.

The pad of your thumb wound a tighter, fuller path around the engorged flesh beneath, your fingers pumping into your core, your mind wandering through time while pressure heightened within you. A fast thought, a wondering instead of a memory, passed through, imagining how Kylo would react seeing you like this, setting eyes on you while you stood in his kitchen, wearing only his briefs while you bucked into your hand as thoughts of him cascaded from your mind to his. Would he be angry, furious that you could build your own release without him? Or would he watch you, his hidden eyes gawking as he felt your every intention before it came to be, attuned to the way your body sang at the memory of his voice, of his eyes, of his frame?

“ _Fucking_ hell,” you gasped, the heel of your hand grinding into the rapturous nerves as your digits hooked into your core, fluid streaming past your knuckles as your body promised an impending release.

With each second and every flex of your hand you crawled towards climax, thinking of Kylo Ren’s cock as it throbbed in need, beads of precum dripping from the slit as it twitched in his hands, readying to fill you with each torturous inch of its pulsating length. Breath stuck in your throat, your pulse pounding in your skull as your mouth hung open, salivating at the thought of him painting your face with thick, hot ropes of his cum, moaning as you remembered how the liquid collected over your nose and slowly dripped within reach of your hunting tongue.

“Oh, _Kylo_ ,” you whined, drool dripping onto the floor within your spread stance, remembering how badly you’d wanted his cock, dowsed in his own blood, to completely destroy your cunt, to stretch you until you tore, to have your own blood combine with his as he rocked into you, relentless even in your pain.

Your walls peaked, your body stalling and unfurling into a nebula of pleasure, hearing the phantom cries of your master echo into the false reality as your free hand strained against the countertop, your lungs trembling with quick breaths. Taking in your accomplishment, you leaned down onto the marble, your hand leaving his briefs and hugging onto the chilled stone, gulping as you slowly left the hazed state of contentment.

“Thanks for the wake-up call, Commander.” Not that he could hear you, you felt it was now a fair trade, your panties for his briefs, acknowledging the notion had done a nice job at kick starting your day.

Reaching over towards the pile, you brushed over the watch’s screen, finding it to be a quarter before seven. Although you knew you hadn’t been to the stormtrooper hub in what seemed like a lifetime, you could make it there for shift change if you left from here in five minutes. Reluctantly, wanting to stay here and hide from life’s responsibilities, you pushed off from the counter and grappled your uniform over your head, not bothering to toil with the buttons. Without looking down, you slipped your shoes on and fastened the watch around your wrist; with a quick finger-brush through your hair and a swish of water from the sink, you stowed the keycard into the front pocket of your uniform and activated the door, keeping your head low and face hidden as you made your way into the open hallways.

In an effort to multitask, you pulled your phone out, finding an email waiting on its home screen. The subject line read _CONFIDENTIAL: Trial proceedings_. In your hobbled stride, the notification dropped your heart. Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since meeting with Hux? He’d informed you of the email, that it would come later in the day, but you’d been so tossed up in the world of Kylo Ren that you’d forgotten to worry about it, forgotten that life wasn’t simple anymore. Even as you skulked away from your Commander’s quarters after not just fucking him, but _sleeping_ with him, this email was what brought you back to reality, your shoulders falling as to remind you of the burdens they’d set down for the night.

Swiping across the screen, you opened the contents, being half-mindful of your surroundings as you trekked towards Starkiller’s general med bay. The scrollbar indicated the lengthiness of the correspondence, your pulse quickening thinking about how serious this all was. This was the beginning of the end, or at least the beginning of trying to prevent the end. It was difficult not to place blame, accepting that it was both a risk and a necessity to take the blood, but also knowing full well that none of this would be happening if Kylo Ren hadn’t taken you from the valuable clinical experience you would have obtained had you been allowed the time to learn in a professional setting. Inwardly you knew you did the right thing, but knowing the entire Board of Physicians was against your cause made it impossible not to feel guilty.

Continuing towards your destination, you delved into the email, first reading the sender information of the Board in all caps – their institutional name, address, contact information, and correspondence code – and then seeing your own information, stomach churning at the sight, head dizzying simultaneously.

_Concerning the defendant,_

_This is an official summons to appear before the Board of Physicians to be tried for the accusation made of first-degree larceny based on multiple eyewitness accounts, a detailed variance report provided by an on-staff provider, and physical evidence surrounding this case collected during the time between the incident’s occurrence and determined trial date. The defendant is required to be notified via word of mouth and either physical or electronic correspondence; once these requirements have been met, construction of the case can and will be expedited._

_The defendant will appear directly before the Board, bypassing the selection of a jury as to keep in pace with this time sensitive matter. For clarity’s sake it is reinforced that the defendant is being tried on the matter of her execution, as her license will be promptly revoked upon the formal announcement of the Board’s judgement. As the defendant has been informed, she will be placed under surveillance in an effort to provide adequate evidence regarding not only her practice as a nurse and provider, but as a functioning member of the First Order. During this time of surveillance the defendant should go about her daily life as she normally would to provide the most accurate idea of her character. In addition to technological monitoring, the character review will be centered around personal accounts of those who have worked with the defendant and superior reviews; these documents will be collected directly by the offices of the Board of Physicians and are to be collected no later than the morning of the defendant’s initial hearing._

_The initial hearing will provide the defendant the opportunity to be introduced to the current elected members of the Board of Physicians. There shall be no questions asked verbally during this time as the defendant will be provided a list of official inquiries following her appearance. In the time between the initial hearing and the official trial – which shall be no less than five days and no more than seven – the defendant will be allotted adequate time to prepare for her questioning; during this same period, the defendant will choose a representative. Let it be known that the defendant is limited to the representatives provided for and selected by the Board of Physicians. Though it is ill-advised, the defendant also has the choice of representing herself._

_Once the defendant has prepared her answers and chosen her representative, the official trial will promptly begin at O-eight hundred the following morning. The trial will follow all legal policies and proceedings as established by the First Order in exception of a selected jury. In the absence of a jury, the defendant will plead directly to the Board of Physicians; the Board has gone through training and certification to disallow bias, emotional or otherwise, to affect their judgments, barring the defendant from skewing their final decision. There will be three testimonies in accordance to the case – one from Officer Talia Harper, another from General Armitage Hux, and a final to be chosen by the defendant to speak in her favor._

_The deciding members of the Board will be allotted seven days to construct their judgments and rationales. As there are five members of the Board, there will be no possibility of a tie. A majority of three will decide if the defendant is to be executed. Once the final judgement has been ratified, one chosen representative will formally announce the decision before the Board and the defendant. As disclosed earlier, upon the judgement’s announcement, the defendant’s license will be permanently revoked and she will be barred from practicing medicine under the First Order. Should the judgment entail the defendant’s execution, she will spend an additional seven days on Cantonica; during this time, the defendant will be allowed the facilities and liberties to get her affairs in order._

_The trial will be conducted in the city of Canto Bight, six weeks from the initial send date of this correspondence. The defendant will need to arrange for travel and plan to arrive two days prior to the morning of her initial hearing. Standard necessities will be provided to the defendant during her time on Canto Bight; in addition, the defendant will also be assigned a security detail who will report to General Hux at the end of each day. During the defendant’s time away from her Master, Commander Ren, he will be assigned a new provider in her absence; this new provider will be selected from the pool of individuals who were screened for the position earlier this year._

_Let it be known that this correspondence does not require a return from the recipient as she cannot refuse an audience with the Board of Physicians without forfeiting her case. Should the defendant be absent at her initial hearing, it would result in a call for her capture followed by an immediate scheduling of her execution._

_On a final note, the Board of Physicians has deemed it necessary to put emphasis on this case, meaning all legal proceedings – the initial hearing, the official trial, the formal sentencing, and the potential execution – are to be televised and allowed for public viewing. The defendant should be prepared to go before upwards of two hundred people._

_Direct any questions to the return address at the top of this official correspondence._

_Respectfully,_

_Karmen Zag, Esq._

_Head of Communications,_

_The Board of Physicians_

The glutton of air which your lungs sucked in pointed out the fact that you hadn’t taken a full breath since you began reading the document. As you’d been reading, your head down and your eyes focused on the bright white screen, the world had fallen away, your journey towards the stormtrooper hub nearly complete. It was five minutes to seven, time evading you in the wake of all the new overwhelming information.

Six weeks didn’t seem like a long enough time for life to change so drastically. Then again, though, it had only been a little over two months since graduation and look how different life looked from then. Standing so far out yet to close to the trial, it felt impossible to win; and how could you win? What’s the prize at this point? Even if the Board rules against your execution, what life could you return to? All the schooling you’d put yourself through, every hour of studying and practicing, just, gone; if you had known it would be so ephemeral and pointless, maybe you’d have spent less time in the library, enjoyed your youth more than you did.

When you turned the corner, you collided into something solid, your body tripping backwards as you took in the familiar sight of your masked master, mind quickly thinking about your hidden belongings tucked beneath the layers of clothing they rested behind. Taking another step back, you regarded General Hux at his right arm, face resting in its usual repugnance.

“Oh, uh, I’m so sorry Commander Ren, I was just on my way to the stormtrooper hub,” you said, shifting your hair so it hid the superficial injury.

“I trust you’ve read over the email detailing your trial, officer?” Each syllable was annunciated, Hux’s voice clear and loud, a sense of unmistakable pride seeping from the question.

“Yes, actually. That’s what had me so distracted from my surroundings.”

“Hm. I’ll see you in six weeks, I suppose.” He took a step forward, away from your Commander. “I’ll notify you when the documents have been cataloged and filed.” With a too-long glare, he tromped past you, his steps growing quieter in his distance.

Looking back up at Kylo’s visor, you went to speak, but he beat you to it. “I trust you’ve had a productive morning.” There was something seductive about his tone, like it was laced with intentional double entendre.

Looking over your shoulder, you scanned the room for onlookers and cameras, finding nothing within earshot before looking back to him. “You could say that.” An unintentional throb came from between your legs, your mind trying and failing at not recounting your earlier self-satisfaction.

“I assume you found my note.”

“Yeah. Yes. Thank you for the… resources. They are both very much appreciated.” It felt funny being so formal with him in public, like a game of pretend.

“Oh, you’re welcome, by the way.”

Had you not just thanked him for the security – both technological and textile? “What… am I missing something?”

Kylo stepped forward, his arm grazing over yours as his head turned down towards your ear. “For the wake-up call, of course.”

Your mouth fell open, a gasp coming from your stunned lungs. “How did you – but you were nowhere near me.”

“I found you last night without that glorified compass on your wrist, didn’t I?” Two fingers pressed into the curve of your hip, goosebumps prickling your skin in fast waves.

Turning your head so your nose almost met his sleeved bicep, you cleared your throat. “So, what? You can hear me now?”

“Not in the literal sense, no. But, you were particularly _obvious_ in your pursuits this morning. You were easy to sense above everyone else.”

You said nothing, still astonished that he grew more attuned to your presence with every encounter. He brushed past you, his fingers pulling at your uniform until they left completely. “Have a nice day, officer.”

His boots echoed behind you in his stride, leaving you hanging like it was nothing to him. Standing there a moment longer, you realized it was past seven, now. Shift change had already begun, and you were once again going to be late due to Kylo Ren’s distractions. Nearly running through the halls, you made it to the nurses’ station five minutes late, seeing the small huddles of night and day nurses around the patients’ doors, listening to their whispers related to client care. A few faces were twisted in confused disbelief, your face hot under their scrutiny.

Walking to the nurse manager’s office, you leaned into the room as you lightly knocked at her door, alerting her to spin in her chair to face you, her own expression following suit with the others’. “Uh, hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but-,”

“You can’t be here,” the woman said, her words fast and jarring.

“I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”

“Here—” she patted her desk until she gripped the document of her intent “—this should explain it.”

The paper was fresh, warming your hands when she passed it to you. On the front it had a photocopy of your ID, your unbeknownst face looking back at you in black and white next to your licensure information. Looking at the bottom of the document, you found a short blip of information, reading:

_By signing this document, you hereby enforce the temporary disbarment of the above indicated physician from practicing medicine not related to his or her own assigned master._

Once more you looked further down the document, seeing the same pointed script from earlier scrawled across a printed line, next to it finding General Hux’s name in its own full, sweeping signature. Was this a joke? He really let you embarrass yourself in coming here instead of telling you in the halls? And, just, why? Why was he insistent in finding new ways to drive you insane? There was no logical reason for him to ban you from practice.

Without noticing, your teeth had clenched together, your fingers gripping too roughly into the thin document, staining your thumb in the fresh ink as it contorted within your grasp. The nurse manager was looking at you with a forced smile, silently saying you had no more business being here.

“Feel free to keep that,” she said, pointing to the crumpled copy.

Shaking with anger, you fought to contain yourself. “Yep.”

With that, you skulked out of the infirmary, not bothering to look up at the knowing faces of the coworkers you never got the chance to befriend. Would there ever come a day where you weren’t humiliated in your professional life? No. That was a pointless question to ask. Whatever career you currently had was about to end, and now you couldn’t even attempt to make up for it. As you whipped down the halls, fast, seething sounds left you, curses for Kylo Ren and General Hux distorted in a frenzied talk.

As if to piss you off further, your phone buzzed at your hip, hand tearing it from your uniform like the object had any say in the matter. The screen was free of emails, but your stride still stopped abruptly, your anger quickly replaced with a sense of ill-defined fear. Staring back at you was a message from Mason, only offering a single question with no context; three words that could mean anything:

_Can we talk_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. We are getting closer and closer to the good stuff, my friends. Not that there hasn't been good stuff already, but the really good, messy, plot-heavy stuff. When I was just reading through this chapter I started to get very excited about the future of this fic. I hope I can deliver on this, I really do.
> 
> Be safe, be kind, and tell me your thoughts/reactions/critiques (:
> 
> \- ST


	17. Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think it would last forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Dubcon/Noncon, inappropriate use of the Force

There was hesitation in the gesture, knuckles faltering just before they made contact with the durasteel door. It’s not like the knock would come as a surprise; you’d arranged to meet with Mason a little over a week ago, stalling the interaction as long as possible in hopes of avoiding the conversation it entailed. There had been no other exchange made over the week, only a few messages shared to decide when and where he wanted to _talk_ , as he had put it; Mason had given no indication of the contents of the discussion he had planned, nothing that could aid in forming pre-made answers to whatever questions he would surely – and rightfully – have since Kylo Ren had made him a pawn in a game of which he was unaware.

In the time since Mason’s cryptic text, you had made a purposeful effort at snubbing any thoughts of your Master; the sight of his signature, indicating the prohibition of your practice on any patient other than him, blared red in its memory. After hours of tachycardic deliberation trying to make sense of it, which ultimately ended in a few tear-stained pillowcases and more than a couple headaches, you concluded it was a pointless pursuit. Kylo Ren did what Kylo Ren wanted; he was never required to explain himself, and you were sure if you asked him – especially in the throes of the rage he’d inspired – whatever answer he _might_ provide would only create more questions.

Since the stormtrooper hub was off limits, your days had vacated whatever routine they may have once held. In the wake of avoiding Mason and mentally blocking Kylo the only thing you could focus on was the impending doom which the trial promised, imagining how your decapitated head would sound as it hit the floor with a dull thud, wondering if its echo would be audible through the live broadcast. The thought crept into your subconscious, filling your nights with nightmares of every legal way of execution the First Order recognized – electric guillotine, fatal injection, or the rather malicious way of exploding a solo transport shuttle in the depths of space. Every slumber offering a new plot with the same inevitable ending.

In honoring a self-set pact, you wouldn’t allow yourself to quell the terrors by getting off to lascivious thoughts, the ones which threatened to appear whenever you would accidentally think of how your Master had left you. He had just come from signing your rights away, and there was nothing in his demeanor that indicated he saw anything wrong in his actions. He didn’t, you were sure, but acknowledging that fact only tightened your jaw and twitched your nose, your tongue buzzing with every practiced speech you’d imagined in your free time.

Between all that currently plagued your mind you barely had time to fret over returning to your own residence; although you didn’t want to credit Ren with any good thing, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you felt safer knowing the new security that’d been installed – which, to your surprise, included a whole new door – was only accessible using the keycard he’d provided. Well, essentially; in one quick trip from the cafeteria you’d bumped into a stormtrooper and lost the original card, having to take an afternoon to get a replacement coded to the new identification system.

There was limited power in the technological safety, your nights filled with intermittent shallow bouts of paranoid sleep, never getting more than three unbroken hours before jolting up and scanning the room for intruders. It wasn’t an ideal situation, no, but at least you had somewhere to go, relieved you didn’t have to ask Mason to crash again, grateful you didn’t need to skulk back to Kylo Ren after he’d figuratively spit on any prospects you might’ve had at redeeming yourself in the eyes of the Board of Physicians.

Now, though, the buffer of time had come and passed, your watch indicating it was ten minutes past the agreed upon meeting time. Three of the ten had passed as you stood here, stalling the unavoidable interaction while simultaneously feeling guilty for being late. Delicately tapping the tips of your knuckles to the door, you hoped maybe Mason wouldn’t hear and you could later explain that you had shown up but he hadn’t been there. Though, that plan quickly turned to dust when you were met with the injured eyes of your friend.

It was alarming, the sight of him; Mason had always been one to keep himself together – showering every morning, shaving afterward, dressing even if he wasn’t to leave his residence – but he looked as if he’d been picked over by Sand People and mauled by tauntauns afterward. Every exposed span of skin was spotted with varying shades of yellows, browns, and reds; the veins which resided beneath the flesh of his anterior forearms punctuated in their color, bruises trailing along their paths as if the vessels had burst. The same trailed up both his carotid arteries, face splotched in an appalling show of healing hematomas. The worst of his pained exterior resided in and around his eyes, his sockets deepened with a crude shade of yellow, his sclera streaked with tiny branches of broken blood vessels.

“Hey,” was all he said, his voice straining against the words.

There were no words that dared to leave, instead your mouth hung open with guilt and silent horror; this was your fault, these were the _true consequences_ which Kylo Ren had informed you of. Even as your bruises faded, your neck freshly free of your Commander’s lavishing, you felt new ones – internal and empathetic – rise eagerly to ache in their absence. _This should be you_ , Kylo had said, the knowledge that this was your misplaced punishment thickening your throat with strangled regret, silently regarding how monstrous this show of brutality was. Condemnation tightened your jaw, mostly for Kylo Ren, but reserving a small portion for your own keeping, cursing yourself for being tricked by the temporary humanity he’d exhibited the very night he’d wrought the massacre before you

All you could think to do was reach out to him, your hand pressing against his cheek, your eyes pouring into his own as a torrent of shame ripped through you. He flinched away from your touch, teeth sucking in a seethe of air as even the featherlight graze prompted his recoil.

“ _Oh_ , I’m so… I’m sorry, Mason.” The apology came in phases as your hand shot away from him, not sure how you could express how pained you were to know you were responsible for his misery.

He hobbled from the door frame, gesturing you past him. “It’s not like this – whatever it is – has anything to do with you.” He coughed out what sounded like an attempted laugh.

“What do you mean? It has everything to do with me.”

His residence was littered with the remnants of a week spent in bed; there were blankets spilling in disarray over the couch, the floor spotted with piles of clothes, a distinct path cutting through the living space and leading back to his room. Mason was never the type to stay still if he didn’t have to, but from the looks of it he hadn’t left here since Kylo Ren had ordered you away from him.

“So you know what happened, then?” The door hissed shut behind him, his gait unsteady as he walked past and gingerly sat down.

You stared at him in disbelief, unsure if he was being serious or not. “Mason, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He was frustrated, fingers twisting into his short strands.

“Okay,” you said, joining him on the couch, “you need to explain what’s going on because I’m getting worried, like, drag-you-to-the-emergency-hub worried.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. That’s what I’m saying. I just – I woke up on the ground the morning I messaged you, and I…” His face was drawn in concentration, like he was trying to see through concrete; he shook his head, a sharp breath leaving him before he turned to you. “I lost time.”

There was a thick veil of some indiscernible emotion etched into his eyes, a fog of shame and fear and disbelief. It wasn’t completely unbelievable to consider his brain had checked out during the torture he’d endured, though he should still be able to remember fragments of it.

“Lost time? Like, you blacked out? Or what?”

“No. I didn’t black out. I remember that feeling too well.” He blinked past memories of his university days. “This feels like – damn, I feel crazy even saying it out loud.”

“You’re not crazy. Trust me, I’d know,” you attempted to make him laugh, earning a slight twitch at his brow. “C’mon, tell me. Please.”

“And I even told Soto about it and the best he could suggest without any imaging was some fugue state. But that just doesn’t seem right because-,”

“ _Mason_.”

He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms and huffing before observing you. “I feel like whatever I’m missing, whatever I can’t remember – I think it was taken from me.”

“Taken from you?”

“That’s the only way I can describe it. Like I know something happened, but I just… it’s gone. The last thing I remember clearly is you telling me about the trial. And then when I woke up I could barely breathe without shaking in pain.”

Though you tried to hide it, your face was covered in the knowledge of what happened – or what _almost_ did – soon after that discussion. This was why you’d been so nervous about coming here; you’d expected and anticipated an agonizing conversation about the advances made that night, fearing how you would have to explain to him that you didn’t feel the same. But, for him, nothing had happened; to Mason, the only thing he was aware of was how deep a hole you’d fallen into.

In your silence, his face fell with mortification. “Did I do something?” He sat up again, grunting as the shift ground against his muscles. “I mean”—his eyes scanned over your expression before you could fix it into nonchalance—“if I did do… something, was it…”

It didn’t feel right not to tell him about the almost-kiss, especially when it was obvious he knew exactly what it had been even in the absence of memory, realizing he’d thought about it before that night. The tops of your cheeks heated, your eyes quickly evading his as indecisiveness overtook you. What harm would it be in him not knowing? But what would come if his ignorance was temporary and he learned you’d lied to him? How would it appear if he found out you’d left him that night to suffer alone, going with the Commander of the First Order in the late hours of the night to some undisclosed location for some unknown reason? There was too much to consider in such a short amount of time, your thoughts loud as your silence led him to assume extremes.

“Is this all—” he gestured down his mottled arms and over his chest “—is this your doing? Because, _damn_ , I’d like to know what-,”

“We didn’t, uh”—the idea that he thought you could, or _would_ , ever do this to him under the pretense of sex brought a rejective shiver, your hands grasping at your knees to dig tension into them –“no, we… nothing happened. I mean, not really. Nothing so… violent. At least.”

There was no relief on his face, only a continued gawk of confusion, like some part of him had wanted you to be the one responsible for his markings, like it would be easier for him to accept that than any other explanation. “Then what happened? You said earlier that this had everything to do with you. Now I’m just completely lost.”

“Do you really think _I_ could bang you up this badly?”

Mason’s face faltered in and out of pink, a blush leaving as quickly as it had come. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he swallowed, mouth slightly quirked at the corners. “I don’t know what you’re into.” When he considered you for a moment too long, you spoke just before he could say anything further.

“I would never hurt you like this, or at all, ever. And it is _hurt_ , nothing more than that, so you shouldn’t read into it.” As you spoke to him, you listened to yourself, realizing you may need to take your own advice.

“If we didn’t…” He left your stare for a moment and cleared his throat before returning. “You said ‘nothing so violent’. What does that mean, then?”

“We didn’t have sex,” you said, needing to state it outwardly to make yourself crystal clear, “but you did almost… kiss me.”

The bewilderment in his expression was catalyzed into something you perceived as the beginnings of hope, something too cruel to offer him when you knew what you said next would just as quickly eviscerate its existence. “I couldn’t go through with it, though.”

When the words left you, his posture shifted and you could’ve sworn you heard the quiet chaos of violin strings being plucked in half. “Oh.”

“If I hadn’t come here that night, none of this would’ve happened,” you explained, chewing at your cheek as you did. “That’s what I meant earlier. And I’m sorry.”

Grateful for the distraction, he took a deep breath, one he’d seemingly forgotten about for a while, and shook his head free of the charged moment. “That still makes no sense to me.” He concentrated on the bruises ascending his forearm as he traced along their yellowed path.

It occurred to you that Mason’s memory loss wasn’t such a mystery, noting that the interruption that had caused it held many capabilities of which you were sure you weren’t aware of, capabilities he only ever used for his benefit. In light of this realization, bone marrow boiling thinking of the convoluted rationale Kylo had in robbing Mason’s recollection, you felt compelled to take it from him, to steal whatever power he had in the action just as he’d stolen your ability to practice. It was a fine line to walk, though, taking an inward moment to consider how to leave out your involvement, self-preservation taking precedence over the vehement abhorrence which your Master had a knack for inspiring as of late.

“That night, just after our – well, whatever it was,” you said, focusing on his arm as he did. “Commander Ren came by to inform me of an appointment I’d forgotten about.” It wasn’t a complete lie, just an altered retelling; at least that’s what you told yourself. “One minute you were right in front of me, and the next—” you looked up, staring at the metal wall which had once held Mason’s outline, your pause prompting Mason to follow suit “—you were screaming in pain.”

Mason’s eyes focused on the area longer than yours did, finding him mindlessly rub the back of his head, the information slowly rationalizing every ache residing in him. “I’d never been so scared or pissed in my life. I knew he was ruthless, and maybe at this point I shouldn’t be surprised, but what he did to you is just,” Mason looked back to you, hands falling down to his lap, “it’s inhuman. And I don’t believe you’ll ever comprehend the amount of guilt I feel for causing it.”

He rasped your name, his face scrunched in disbelief. “How has this psychopath convinced you that any of this is your fault? No, please tell me you know this is his doing. I won’t accept your apology because it shouldn’t be coming from you.”

A petty huff of air left you, amused at his last statement. “Well, if you’re expecting one from the Commander, you shouldn’t hold your breath.”

“I know better than that,” he said, taking your wrist in his hand, fingers falling over the ghosted remnants of your bindings from that night. “I also know that you don’t deserve whatever mental warfare you’re going through. Tell me you know that, too.”

Although he wasn’t aware he’d said them, you distantly regarded the truth he’d spoken that night: _I know you_ , the words founded in fondness faded between you, recognizing the opportunity this moment presented. Before you spoke, you took his hand and clasped it in your own, a preface of reassurance. “I know, Mason. Thank you, though, for reminding me who I am.”

Seeing the yearning that resided in his eyes might have shattered your heart, knowing full well how dull the knife of unrequited feelings was, yet you found solace in the fact he was putting himself aside to be comrade, just as you had when he’d needed the same in years past. Mason knew you best, and there was nobody else you would ever trust so entirely with your life.

“I know it’s such a bad time and I feel selfish even thinking about this right now, but it just feels like the only time I’ll have-,”

As you had earlier, he carried you back to reality by the sharp interruption of your name, eyes wide and hand shaking your own. “Spit it out already.”

“I got the run down on my trial last week and they’re allowing me to choose one person to testify in my favor. You’re the only person I would ever want to speak on my behalf.”

His face lifted with his full, toothy smile, yellow crinkles forming at his eyes before he remembered how painful happiness was to express in his state; his cheeks fell in retraction, his laughter at his forgetfulness prompting your own. “Why did you even think you had to ask? Yes, I’ll take the stand for you. No question about it.”

For a moment, you let yourself forget as he did, leaping up and hugging him to you with voraciousness, listening to his squeaks of suffering as you rocked him side to side, feeling his arms pat against your back in acceptance or rejection – you were unsure which it was. A knock was the only thing that pulled you out of the tangible state of glee, your heart falling as your eyes did, only relaxing when you regarded the distance your radar reported.

“That’s probably Soto,” Mason said as you stood at his side. “He’s been keeping me up to speed on my patients and assignments. He’s actually early today.”

“I guess I should go. I’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today, anyway.”

“Aren’t you down at the stormtrooper hub when Ren doesn’t need you?”

Eye twitching at the memory of your nonexistent practice, you sucked your teeth. “There isn’t enough time nor patience in the world for me to talk about it right now,” you sneered, leaving his hand as you headed for the door. “But I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind my company?”

“Hm, I’ll have to check my schedule,” he feigned, tongue dripping in sarcasm.

“You wound me, McCarty. Y’know that?”

“I _kid_. Yes, come over. I’d love some company.”

“Oh, so I’m just _some_ company to you, now?”

His brow arched in challenge, a playful light in his eyes. “What? Are you waiting on some grand profession of my love for thee? Thought you said you couldn’t go through with it, huh?”

“ _Okay_ , I’m leaving now.” You figured it was best to stop him before he read too much into your banter.

“Hey, hey,” he called you back one last time, your hand wavering above the door’s indicator. “Where have you been staying this past week? Aren’t you being stalked by that Robbie idiot?”

“Actually, that’s not an issue anymore,” you said, dancing around how that fact came to be. “I’m back at my place.”

“Oh. Good. I would offer my place again but—” he gestured towards the disheveled room “—I’m afraid I can’t offer the best amenities at the moment.”

You smiled at him, fingers splaying towards him as to say goodbye. Before you could turn away from him completely, though, he jolted in place and called you back. “One last thing, I promise, alright?” He gave you a sheepish smile before you crossed your arms in response. “I know you don’t pay attention to the First Order’s calendar, but there’s a mandatory rally in a month or so. It said something about the Republic and some weapon. I don’t know. Just thought you’d like a heads-up.”

With that, you left him with a thank you, taking a short moment to greet Dr. Soto, regarding the rather large stack of paperwork he held tight to his chest. For a second you envied Mason, noting he at least had work to keep up on in his leave of absence, inwardly shrinking as you thought of the empty hours awaiting you at your residence; this made you savor the walk home, counting the footsteps between each tile conjunction, taking time to greet those you passed, stopping for a moment to observe the routine marching of grouped stormtroopers through a glass panel. At one point you found yourself standing in the center of a massive floor mosaic of the First Order’s emblem, turning slowly as every one of the sixteen spikes aimed towards you, noting the irony of its red nature. 

It was the longest you’d ever stretched the walk out, twenty minutes passing before you arrived at your door, its clean, unmarked face mocking you; yes, you were safe behind it, but at what cost? Your career? Your sanity? Doing a final sweep of the hall, your eyes rolled as you swiped the ID-lock and stepped past the hydraulic threshold, dropping your stuff on the credenza just inside the door. To delay your boredom even longer, you searched and found the email Mason had referenced, mentally noting the rally was only two weeks before your trial.

“Would you like to tell me why you were with the physician all morning?” A voice came from the shadows, your heart falling as a quick yelp left you. “Or do I get to go digging?”

Collecting yourself, you were overcome with pure, refined wrath as the unaltered voice of an unmasked Kylo Ren ground against your ear drums, a trigger for every thought you’d restrained to rain down all at once, your skin heating before any coherency would form in your mind. Flashes of Mason’s injury mixed with those of your Master’s signature, both images reinforcing your resolve to accept none of his usual antics.

“No, I’m perfectly fine with telling you how I met my friend, completely bludgeoned and partially brainwashed, to explain to him what happened on the night that had conveniently been erased from his memory. Though, you already know all of this, so why would I waste your time, Commander?”

Walking further into the room, your arms coiled to your chest, you couldn’t see him in the main room, finding his helmet propped on the coffee table. Stomping through to your room, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, hands clamped onto the curve of the mattress, face flat and cold.

“Oh, I should also mention I went to see him so I could use the disgusting amount of free time I’ve been allotted in the wake of my practice being barred. Gosh, I just keep telling you things you already know.”

“Hm, that explains it.” His tone matched his demeanor, offering no emotion.

Keeping his eyes, you walked past the threshold and in front of him, an arm’s length away. “Explains what?”

The tip of his tongue lit between his teeth before he spoke, his focus never settling on any one of your features. “You’ve been avoiding me. In more ways than one.” His eyes stuck on your pelvis just long enough for your pulse to pick up before coming up to yours. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Why would I want to think about the thing that infuriates me?” There was too much disdain for his distractions to work.

“You said you were worried about the Board. I acted in your favor.” He reached out, hooking two fingers into your waistband. “Where’s your uniform?”

Ignoring the uproar between your legs, you grabbed at his wrist, his errant apathy twisting your face with disbelief. “How is dismantling my career and nearly killing my friend acting in my favor?”

He ignored your opposition, pulling you closer to him, feet dragging with reluctance. “I didn’t bar your practice, and I didn’t kill your friend.” He took a breath, another hand coming to peel into your pants, two fingers skimming at either hip.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I didn’t catch that last part. What’d you say?” He looked up at you, his stare feigning confusion.

Astonishment left your mouth to hang open. “Are you – what,” you stuttered out, his brow coming up in challenge. The bastard was cracking jokes. “I do not have the time or patience to deal with you right now.”

He kept your stare as he pulled you forward, your face just barely above his as he sat. “Tell me,” he dipped his face into your neck and kissed your name into the buzzing skin, “what is there to deal with?”

So his strategy was to seduce you into your own bed? Was he just choosing to ignore the rolling waves of rage you knew he could sense? “This isn’t going to work this time.”

His nose skimmed against your collar bone as the fingers at your hips began to pull down, his lips falling against the hem of your neckline. He had placed you between his spread legs, the inside of his thighs hitting the outside of yours, his warmth nearing you towards the tiniest crack in your resolve. Still, it wasn’t enough to forgive all he’d done since that night. To keep focused, you let your mind run rampant with thoughts of Mason’s pain, replaying his screams over and over to keep away from giving into Kylo.

“Why do you insist I have a goal in mind?” His teeth grazed down your jaw.

“Why did you ban me from practice?”

“Your only assignment is me. I didn’t take anything from you that you needed.” He slipped your pants down your thighs, leaving your panties behind as the waistband fell to your feet. His fingers wrenched into your hips trying to pull you into his lap.

“If I can’t practice, the Board can’t get a good judgement on my competency and I’ll have no chance at keeping my license.” You brought your hands to his shoulders, pushing off of them with considerable strength, feeling as they flexed beneath you.

He continued his pursuit to pull you onto him, ignoring your objections, trailing his nose from your inner clavicle, out towards your shoulder, and ghosting it down the curve of your covered chest; when he met the base of your breast he nuzzled into you, a soft grunt leaving him, the sound venom to your resolve.

He hummed against you. “That’s exactly why I did it.” One hand skated beneath your shirt, your muscles drumming beneath his touch.

“So you want me to lose my career? Isn’t that counter intuitive? If I can’t practice, I’ll be replaced.” His admission fortified your efforts, feeling stronger as your lust fell into your earlier anger.

“If you can’t practice, you can’t mess up, and the Board can’t hold things against you that you didn’t do.” His head swiveled to your other breast, teeth biting at you through your top.

That hurt. That pulled you entirely away from his machinations. He may trust you with his life, but apparently not with anyone else’s. There was no hint of remorse or even awareness in his tone; he found nothing wrong in his statement, like he blatantly agreed that you held no medical competency. Taking one hand, you buried it into the base of his skull and pulled back on his hair, tearing his face from your chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He looked more annoyed than angry, like he couldn’t process how his words had stung. “Do you want to rephrase that question with professionalism in mind?”

“Professionalism? You don’t get to lecture me on proper _workplace behavior_ when your face was just buried in my tits two seconds ago.”

His head tilted before he spoke, eyes narrowing in question. “I don’t get to?”

The room spun before you had a chance to object, your back hitting the bed and bouncing as the springs sounded beneath you. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked for where he’d gone, finding him crouched between your legs, face cast with a new purpose. When hidden hands tore off your shoes, you watched his eyes as they drew knives into your chest.

“Take off your shirt,” he said simply.

An amused breath came from your nose. “No.”

Fingers bit into the bend of your knees, your eyes shooting to his. The way he looked at you was purposeful, your eyes reacting to his like a magnet, a slight pull behind his stare. “Take off your shirt.”

There was a wicked smirk creeping over his face before you could process what was happening; though you hadn’t sent any indication through your brain to abide by his command, it seemed your body was overriding your wishes and giving into his. Suddenly it felt like you were merely a consciousness residing within a solid form, arms pulling your shirt off and additionally reaching behind you remove your bra. It was bizarre, watching yourself from within, having no control over your actions, screaming at yourself to stop. But you couldn’t, your arms tossing both articles to the side as you felt the chill of the room spread over your exposed breasts.

“You need to understand that I can do what I want—” he took his hands from your knees “—when I want—” he stood from between your legs “—how I want—” he stared down over you, his gaze admiring what his handiwork had uncovered “—and I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone.”

One of his hands fell to his belt, undoing the fasteners before it dropped to his feet, moving on to unfurl the layers of his uniform to grasp at the erection they’d been containing. Standing back from you, hips angled forward, you watched as he trailed one finger down the prominent vein residing under the shaft. In reaction you wanted to clasp your thighs together, wanted to relieve the new thrumming between your slit, but once more you found you were only to view this event, your body under his complete control.

His other hand came up and motioned your eyes back to his, finding that same purposeful energy within them, feeling like you were floating through time. “Touch yourself.”

With no contesting, your hand lifted from the bed and involuntarily went to reach between your legs. “Oh, not there,” he said, adding a finger to his slow swipes, cock twitching at his touch. “Here,” he directed, the palm of your hand sailing over the warming skin of your belly, landing on and clutching into your right breast, soon kneading it to his will.

His throat bobbed, lips parting as the sight inspired a small groan in his throat. “Mm, look how obedient you’re being. Have anything to say, officer?”

What you’d meant to do was bark _you’re demented_ , feeling completely infringed upon as your touch wasn’t your own; though, what came out resembled more of a garbled stream on nonsense, your tongue not complying to your direction either, lying flat against your teeth as you fought to form words.

Kylo snickered to himself, taking his length in his whole hand now. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Your hand moved to pinch your nipple, the peaked flesh stiff between your fingers, the feeling simultaneously foreign and familiar, a squeak escaping you when he forced your nails into the sensitive tissue.

“I relegated your scope of practice for your benefit,” he said, his thumb pressing into his head and collecting precum before sliding it over his blushing dick. “I’m only concerned with preserving your life, the issue of your credentials means nothing to me; so long as you have contact with other patients you are open to liabilities I can’t control.”

With his will overtaking you, you found it hard to concentrate on anything but his fist, watching him fuck himself to the sight of your body completely at his beck and call, mouth salivating as the tip glistened in the low light of the room. You tried to fight him from within, trying to summon thoughts that would barricade you from the pleasure the mere sight of him brought. Kylo could feel this, you knew, your hand cresting back over your belly until your fingers crept beneath your panties and into your folds.

When your own finger brushed over the prominent nerves, you nearly convulsed, feeling like the touch couldn’t possibly be your own. Kylo’s mouth fell open, hand moving faster along his cock, grip tightening as your own hand bid his will. Not knowing the intentions of your own body felt like you had entered a state of half-consciousness, like you were an onlooker within yourself. Was this how it felt for him? The way your fingers glided smoothly along your sex, finding how wet you had gotten for him and by him; your body was a new frontier, seeing yourself through a touch that was yours but didn’t entirely belong to you.

Still, no matter how exquisite it felt having him fuck himself while also fucking you byway of the Force, you were determined to not lose your resolve, to focus on the fact that he’d taken so much, that he didn’t trust your practice, that he’d hurt one too many people you loved; it’s what held you back from the edge, like fighting to hold onto your last breath before letting the water infiltrate your lungs, letting it rapture your body in peace, accepting its power over you.

The pressure over your tongue had left, your words back in your control now. “If this is your idea of protection, I don’t want it! I’m fine on my own in my practice; I know what I’m doing. You’d know that if you would let me off this short fucking leash.” The words were a concoction of moans, whimpers, and mewls; the sentence singsong in your pleasure.

“If that was true, how’d you get here in the first place?” His words were shaking, the sound of his strokes along with your own filling the room with vigorous, unrefined lust.

If his obvious distrust in your clinical skill hadn’t burned so entirely earlier, maybe his newest words hadn’t have stung your eyes with furious tears. This was who had given you a reason to fight to begin with, and now he was rubbing your malpractice – which saved a life – in your face, bringing you toward a climax you didn’t want to give him. Between his disregard for your career, the way he’d enveloped Mason in injury, and how entirely removed he was from everything but himself, you found yourself a prisoner in your own body; not wanting to give into him, but feeling the pressure rise in you by the second, your cunt throbbing as unbidden fingers pumped into you at his command.

“I don’t want this,” you moaned, hearing him grow closer as you were.

Through slit eyes and tight teeth, Kylo groaned, long and deep. His second hand joined the other over his cock, tightening around himself, simultaneously making your fingers press down further, pump faster until they hooked into you, your lungs stalling before he compelled you into release. A seizing rapture of nerve firings and muscle contractions brought your chest towards him, a loud, feral roar leaving him before you felt a warm fluid streak over your bare skin; it crept down your abdomen, slipped down your tits and onto your sheets. When the aftershocks wore off, so did his presence, control returning to you as you folded into yourself, arms clinging to your chest, back hunching over your crossed legs.

“That crossed a line,” you whispered, focused on the floor, warmth streaming down your cheeks as you fought back sharp heaves of breath.

In your periphery he stared at you, face red and hair sweat-stuck to his neck, shoulders tiding with his lungs. “Let it serve as a reminder, then.” He was so distant, voice almost foreign, half of you wishing it was.

“Kylo Ren gets what Kylo Ren wants—” you looked up to him with shattered eyes “—I understand. Please just leave.”

Whoever stood before you, it was someone you’d never met. Or someone you’d attempted to forget or rationalize. Either way, a stranger stared back at you, eyes black and soul missing. He collected his belt and situated himself back to decency, all the while looking at you with complete emptiness.

“The physician bore potential as a witness; if he remembered any of what we’d discussed with him there, the Board would use him against you.”

“Please.” It was barely audible, tears now streaming down your neck.

In the last frame of his face, you saw a flicker of potential humanity, the inner corners of his eyes lifting just before he turned out of the room, his steps pounding through your residence before leaving completely. As the door hissed shut in the distance you fell back on the bed, the heels of your hands digging into your sockets as a hiccuped collection of sobs and shrieks left in broken breath.

This was rock bottom. At least you hoped it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say, so maybe I just won't say anything. Oh brother, 'tis almost time, y'all. Strap in, the ride is about to commence.


	18. More Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, just add it to the list at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild descriptions of medical trauma

The villagers stood in contained crowds, barricades of stormtroopers detaining them with weapons raised as they looked on in horror; behind them, their homes were set aflame and their resources run dry at the hands of the First Order, their livelihood decimated in the early hours of the morning. War was an ugly, retched thing, though it always appeared necessary, at least when it was presented by the media. As a nurse it was nearly intolerable to watch these people, see them as they held tight to their lives as Kylo Ren, the Commander of everything unfolding before you, drowned their world in chaos.

The taut skin of your knuckles, nearly bound to the frame of the Command Shuttle, thrummed in beat with your pulse as you peered into a reality you never imagined you’d bear witness to; of course you’d known your Master was a powerful, feared man, but you’d never seen him in action. He was outfitted in his robes again, a cowl draped around his helmet and hanging asymmetrically from his shoulders as he terrorized the village. The wind seemed to frame him with an additional aura of death, his mere presence commanding even the elements themselves. Looking at him, one eye glued to the potentiating terror just beyond the descended ramp, you empathized with the villagers, knowing he had no bounds, understanding he couldn’t recognize them to begin with.

The month since he’d stripped you of your free will had passed quickly, spending the first half cooped up with Mason, helping him catch up on patient cases; not that you felt any loyalty towards Ren, you knew you couldn’t tell Mason about the incident, leaving its memory to strangle you when there was nothing to fill the time. After the first two weeks, Mason had healed in time to attend his spin-off residency on the Finalizer, his absence leaving you with too much silence, too much spare time to overanalyze the last time you’d seen your Master.

It felt like he’d taken something from you, even as your autonomy had returned it felt defaced, an uncomfortable reminder of the control he’d stripped you of. What kept you up at night was trying to understand his reasons behind the act; there was too much between you and him for it to be a natural inclination on his part. It had been such a paradigm shift, one week he’d left you with a pair of his briefs, the next he was using your will to prove his point. It didn’t make sense, and that fact bothered you. What changed so drastically in the week you’d spent away from him? You weren’t ignorant that he could take what he wanted, but maybe you were naïve in thinking he wouldn’t take it from you. Foolishly, perhaps, you’d convinced yourself that – even for the shortest, most minuscule period of time – you’d meant something to him as he’d meant to you.

The thoughts bombarded your foggy head as your watch had pulled you from whatever distorted amount of sleep you’d obtained last night, the red face blaring into your puffy eyes less than thirty minutes ago. Its incessant chirping was accompanied by a cryptic message scrawling _COMMAND SHUTTLE LEAVING. TEN MINUTES._ in too-fast a cycle for four in the morning. This was the first instance you’d been called to work unexpectedly, the first time the watch had served any other purpose than to track _you_. It was an unwelcome reminder that, for the time being, you were still chained to the life of Kylo Ren.

As of late it seemed like you’d been yearning for the trial to start, exactly a week separating you from complete severance from your Master or even the First Order. That’s how you had to look at it, though, growing tired of wasting time worrying about something you couldn’t control, its date creeping ever closer as you fought to convince yourself everything would be okay. That was the farthest thing from the truth, you knew, taking into consideration you would soon either be dead or an unemployable bum being antagonized by an unhinged stormtrooper and exploited by a man who would never respect you. Truthfully, nothing was okay and nothing seemed like it would be okay any time soon or any time ever.

“I know where you come from, before you called yourself Kylo Ren,” an old man said, bringing you back to the scene at hand.

The man seemed docile, his only intention being that of speaking to the Commander, his demeanor calm even surrounded by chaos. But what he said was ludicrous; taking a moment to think about it, you realized you’d never thought about a time where Kylo Ren wasn’t anthropomorphized fear. There was a time before he headed the First Order’s troops, a time where he was younger and maybe even attainable. According to the old man, strangely enough, it seemed as if Kylo Ren didn’t exist during those times, but what did it mean? The sentence begged the question if Kylo Ren’s name was even more of a mask than the one he outwardly wore.

“The First Order rose from the dark side. You did not.” The gentleman was so assured in his tone, but how could he be? Who was he, and how could he know these things?

“I’ll show you the dark side.” The assertion in your Master’s voice shook you, your pulse elevating as you spied his hands coil into black wrath at his sides.

“You may try, but you cannot deny the truth that is your family.”

“You’re so right.”

The emblazoned shaft of the red sword lit instantaneously as the last word fell from Kylo’s tongue, the weapon slicing through the old man’s chest and leaving an orange stain of fatality burning away at his flesh. Before you could turn away, you saw him crumple to the ground, body lifeless as you caught view of his eyes; they were open, bright even, red glinting over his face and onto the still-wet surface of his sclera. Burying your face into the durasteel, catching your breath, you hid from the truth you grew closer to accepting every day: there was no redemption for a man who didn’t want it. The only thing Kylo Ren had shown a consistent desire for was power, and surely this was just another egregious show of how he continuously attained exactly that.

There were only a few stormtroopers scattered throughout the Command Shuttle, one swiveling his head towards you when you gasped in rejection, wishing you could erase the memory of the fading eyes before the one who owned them became cold. It didn’t matter if these people were supposedly enemies, they were _people_ ; innocent people who existed as no threat to the one jeopardizing their lives. The true punishment of being associated with Kylo Ren would never be the indignity or pain he caused you, but knowing and even seeing that which he wrought over others.

“What are you looking at?” you spit, the white-armored onlooker quickly flinching back to attention. The earlier mistrust you’d developed for the entire stormtrooper population had recently been replaced with distaste, an acrid film covering your tongue whenever one was within your vicinity. It was easier to be angry with all of them than to be in a constant state of fear, so whenever a moment presented itself, you tended towards confrontation instead of cowardness.

“Put him on board.” The modulated words spun you back towards the night, seeing two stormtroopers handling a different man, both his arms entangled into their grips.

He was rugged; a leather jacket covering his arms, a head full of deep browns curls framing his squared face. There was dirt covering his cheeks, a thin film at least, you assumed from being on Jakku for however long he had been. Everything about him screamed _Resistance_. Even so, much like the old man and the villagers, he was a person, and you knew what awaited him when the Command Shuttle landed on the Finalizer. A reluctant pang of protection constricted your heart as you watched him struggle against his detainees, his head flying back to catch one last glimpse at the village as they faded out of his view.

The man was led past you, your eyes catching his for a second too long, studying him before he was strapped into a holding seat, hydraulic cuffs hissing over his wrists, ankles, and abdomen. He seemed too unphased for the predicament he’d walked into, his face nearly amused, like this was typical for him. Looking at him you felt a need to watch over him, the ways of guardianship and advocacy that’d been instilled in you during school; though they were entirely misplaced, him being a prisoner of the First Order inciting a vague sense of dissonance, you couldn’t bring yourself to see him as a threat. There was too much kindness in his eyes, a sense of trustworthiness about him you couldn’t quite explain.

“Kill them all.” Another interruption, this time sending knives through your lungs.

It was too quick, the orders registered and implemented simultaneously before you had the thought to turn around. Instead, your head jolted into your shoulders at the sound of blasters firing, heart rampaging as the consequential screams echoed after them. The villagers’ shrieks continued, their pain tangible even without seeing them, the images of their earlier faces haunting you as you realized none of them would ever leave this dreadful night. Vomit rose in your throat, your legs barreling forward towards stability, coincidentally landing you in the seat next to the prisoner as you swallowed against your throat.

“Hey, watch it, alright? Keep your breakfast to yourself,” he leaned away from you as far as his restraints would allow.

“No, I’m good. I’m-,” you dry heaved over your knees, the screams fading into silence when your head came back up. Luckily, you hadn’t had time to eat said breakfast.

“Okay, yeah, that’s great. Just how I thought today would go.”

“In all fairness, if I had actually thrown up on you, would that have been the worst part of your day thus far?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He studied you, appraising, glimpsing the red embroidery and then forming your last name into a question. “First Order care provider, huh?” He read off your uniform. “Oh, _Commander Ren’s_ care provider. Excuse me for the informality.” He was making jokes while detained by his enemies. It was impossible not to like him.

“Between you and me—” you peered around, noting the rising volume of boots approaching the ramp before looking back at him and whispering “—I don’t really enjoy the title either.”

The prisoner’s face broke into a broad smile, his eyes narrowing at your admission. “Well, I could offer you a new one. If you wanted.”

Incessant, angry heat bit at your cheeks, eyes blaring at him. “Oh, no. No, _no_. I just don’t like-,”

“Don’t like what? Your boss? Neither does anyone else.”

His audacity mixed with his dazzling expression inspired one of your own, cheeks rising at the thought of the entire galaxy pitted against Kylo Ren. “I don’t think I can argue with that fact.”

“I think we’re on the same side, kid.” He looked down at his hand and then back to you. “Poe Dameron. I’d offer you a handshake, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

“What makes you think I’d accept your hand?” He reminded you of Mason, his wit impeccable just the same, a giggle pitching your tone upwards.

He was about to speak before his eyes dropped and his face followed, your own head turning to learn the cause. With a smile still splintering over your face, Kylo stood at the threshold watching you, your heart sinking when you felt the unabashed show of happiness still tight over your cheeks. To be caught not even consorting, but laughing with the enemy? Not the best thing for you right now. Swallowing, you relaxed your face and nodded at your Commander, sitting with your back flat against the wall with forced posture as you watched him in your periphery.

Five more stormtroopers piled in behind him before he took another step, finally moving towards the control panel. The hatch ascended and the engines vibrated through the floor, a rising pitch ringing into the ship as it prepared to propel into the sky. Unthinkingly, you’d forgotten to strap in, but when you went to fumble for the belts, your arms couldn’t move. Scrambling, you fought against the invisible constraints, fearing the headache that would transpire should the ship take off before you could secure yourself.

The engines came to a peak, their tremors jolting through your entire body, and when the red-paned windshield fled into the stars, you clamped your eyes shut, preparing for the collision. After a share of time which seemed too generous, you popped one lid open, testing to see if you had just blacked out during the event. But you were completely fine, finding the Force was back to working for your advantage, even if that wasn’t its primary intention. From the corner of your eye you saw Dameron observing you, his face bearing the confusion you were containing.

“That was lucky,” he said, half grumbling to himself.

“Yeah, l-,”

“ _No talking_.” Kylo bit off your words, acid seeping through the vocoder from the head of the ship.

The rest of the trip was silent, no person wanting to shatter the shallow patience of the pilot. Just before the ship landed in the Finalizer’s docking bay you stole one last look at Dameron, seeing his throat bob, watching as the hinge of his jaw twitched against tension. Maybe his earlier nonchalance was a coping mechanism, choosing only to accept a situation when it was necessary. It was strange how much you shared with someone you were supposed to hate, someone you should want to get punished. Against your better judgement you found yourself worrying for him, imagining whatever hell he would shortly be introduced to, knowing which devil would be delivering it.

With a slightly rocky landing the Command Shuttle docked, engines coming down as the ramp did. Clearing your throat, you caught his attention.

“Good luck,” you mouthed, face full of ill-timed pity, hoping the maroon shadows cast a veil of protection over your gesture.

He looked over you, mouth quirking in one corner, eyes scanning the ship before returning to yours. “Offer still stands,” he mouthed back, raising a brow.

Pointedly, you looked back at him, slowly and subtly shaking your head. A silent declination. Though running away with the Resistance seemed a nice alternative to what life currently offered, it wasn’t probable to believe you’d be successful in evading the entire First Order, let alone your Master. With a final scan over his features, you committed his name to memory, determined not to let his life be in vain if he was fated the same as the villagers.

“Take him to interrogation one. Standard procedures before I take over,” Kylo instructed, two stormtroopers grappling Dameron from his seat. He was gone before you had thought to move again, finding the restraints still present over your upper body.

When the last of the mission crew descended into the docking bay, you waited for your freedom, sure it would come at the expense of either your time or your patience. Kylo stalked towards you, purpose in each stride, leaning against the wall from your seat, leathered fury flexing over his robes. The cowl created a hood over his helmet, the chrome bars of the visor barely glinting in the poorly lit ship.

“Do you have a death wish?” The question was born through hidden gnashed teeth.

These were the first words he’d directed solely at you since that day, his audacity no longer shocking, only aggravating. “Depends on the day at this point, I guess.”

“The First Order tends to be less lenient when it comes to treason than they are with larceny.”

“Noted.”

“What happened to getting your license back?”

“I realized it doesn’t matter what I want. You made that _exceptionally_ clear.”

He shifted in his stance, your apathetic candor catalyzing his irritation. There was no other way to interact with him anymore; if he would never acknowledge or respect you as an autonomous being who held her own thoughts and made her own decisions, what could you do other than placate him? You were numb, acting like it at least. Giving him a reaction would only allow him a sense of gratification.

“Allow me to make one more thing clear,” he said, the Force leaving your chest before his hand encircled your wrist and guided you away from the wall.

With no further explanation he led you into the docking bay, the freezing air biting at you past the threshold. Your wrist was freed once you were twenty paces from the Command Shuttle, Kylo’s strides unrelenting as you passed through crowds of workers at a half-jogged speed to keep up with him. It was pointless to disobey him, to not follow him; there was no challenging someone who didn’t fight fair. However reluctantly, you were working on accepting that fact, too.

Through unfamiliar halls and a few flights of mesh stairs you looked out at the bustling expanse of the Finalizer, taking in the hoards of organized stormtroopers, a vague sense of panic seemingly quickening every workers’ steps. The morning had already begun in emergency, though it seemed it wasn’t going to settle down any time soon. Today felt different, like it was important, like you weren’t supposed to forget it. However strange it seemed, the day had barely started and yet you found yourself dreading what it had in store.

After turning down a final indiscriminate hall, Kylo initiated a door which stood directly parallel to a second, the two rooms seemingly intended for each other. Inside the threshold was a singular metal desk with a matching chair, every wall solid and soundproofed except one. To your right was a mounted set up of four monitors, screens illuminated with the images of camera footage; taking a closer look, you recognized the main subject, strapped into an upright position against a flat adjustable table outfitted with a plethora of mechanics you could only assume were intended for harm. Following in after Kylo, your heart fell as you saw the prisoner’s face had already been marked with injury. It was subtle, but whatever light he’d held in his eyes when you’d met him had left, face solid and tight as he stared across from him. Following the direction of his glare, you looked at a second screen, a new angle offering insight into the subject of his hostility. A black armored soldier stood across from him, a table of various instruments to his right. You looked between the two men as each one settled into their situation, both ignorant to your digital presence.

“Why are we here, Kylo?” It was rhetorical, tone exhausted with his games as you turned away from the screens.

“I’m showing you what you’ve obviously forgotten, what I allowed you to forget.” He looked down at you, hand reaching to turn you back to the screen.

Shifting away from him, his fingers only grazed your shoulder. “No, this is not in my job description. If you have anything physically ailing you, then fine, I’ll stay, but I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

“Your objections only prove me right. You need to be reminded that-,”

“Alright, this is getting old. If you want to talk, let’s talk. But I’m not addressing you with that helmet on.”

“Officer,” he growled, “this isn’t your ch-,”

“I can’t understand you over that ridiculous scarf. Just give me that last part again, hm?” Maybe it wasn’t smart, but he needed a reminder of his own: you weren’t taking his shit anymore.

His fist collided with the table, the monitors rattling against their fasteners. “I don’t want to-,”

“What? You don’t want to hurt me? You don’t want to force me to do it? That’s a change of pace, isn’t it?”

Kylo met you through the mask, the slight sound of his gloved thumbs rubbing over his knuckles filling the silence. His chest fell as his arms rose, fingers disengaging the muzzle before it hissed away from him and he slid the cowl down to his back. When he pulled the apparatus from his head, you took the opportunity to search him for that empty person you’d met the last time you’d seen his eyes. The bright glow of the screen lit half his face, casting a dim shadow across the other as he shook his hair free from the helmet’s confines. There was a veil of confusion in his expression, like he couldn’t accept your outburst or understand why you’d say such things.

The helmet met the table in a loud _clang_ , unnecessary force behind the placement. “I never wanted to do those things,” your last name was stale from his mouth, corporate in its annunciation.

“I really don’t get it. If you don’t want to, then _why_? I’ve considered every possibility for the last month and I can’t see why you’d ever do that to me,” you said, fingers wrapping around the top rail of the chair.

“I’d been too lenient with you. You’d forgotten your place.” There was no conviction in his tone, almost like he was reciting a script.

“That’s such bullshit! And you know it is, too.”

“It’s inconsequential if you don’t want to accept my explanation.”

“Do _you_ even accept your explanation?” In your periphery you noted movement on the screen. “Seriously, you knew you didn’t have to do that, but you still did. I need to know why.”

“I couldn’t allow a subordinate to speak to me like you did. It was inappropriate.”

“Are you- _subordinate_? Is there someone telling you these things? Like, if I looked in your ear would there be a speaker?” This was not who he was, not in the slightest.

“Contrary to what you may believe, officer, I can form my own thoughts.”

“But these aren’t _yours_! What the hell happened? I don’t know this—” you gestured over his frame, face twisted with disbelief “—this person.”

“You don’t know me. Good to see we agree on one thing.”

He was being exceedingly dramatic today. “That’s not what I said. I do know you, but whoever you’ve been since that day… I hate it.”

“Please,” he said, taking a step towards you, “tell me who I’ve been recently.”

You mirrored him, stepping from behind the chair, seeing his eyes darken as you did. “In short? An ass who treats me like an object he can throw around whenever he wants.”

Beside you came a shriek, both echoed through the wall and crystal clear through the monitors. The flinch it inspired stole a portion of power in your admission, your head shunning the screens completely as to not see the cause of the terror. It was too familiar to the sounds Mason had let out, the memory flashing as Dameron came down from his pain with heavy, fast breaths. It sounded like another scream was brewing, but just before it came to fruition the screens cut out, the audio following simultaneously. The monitors settled into a red display of the First Order’s emblem, its cast blaring over your eyes the same as Kylo’s.

He stared at you and then down at the table, throat bobbing as you realized he’d turned them off purposely. He cleared his throat. “And that’s not who I usually am?”

“Before now, my free will had remained in-tact when I was with you. So, no. That’s not who you are.” You looked away from him, chewing your cheek.

A strong hand ran through his hair, the other firm against the table, back hunched down as he looked over at you, your eyes peeking over at his as you felt him scanning over your face. “How are you so sure of that fact?”

Shutting your eyes, you ground your teeth together, hands coiling over the sharp metal ridge of the desk. “Do you actually want to know, or is this just’,”

“I want to know.” The interruption prompted your eyes back to his, genuine attention and almost concern etched into his expression.

“Fine,” you breathed, pushing off of the desk to cross your arms and face him. He fixed his posture as you did, hands open at his sides. “I could get over the drowning, and I didn’t protest the blood – I actually kind of liked it, but no matter that fact –” you shook your head “—everything else I could move on from. This, stripping me of choice when all I wanted to do was understand why you’d gone to such lengths to _protect_ me? I truly don’t know how I can move on from that, or how I can forgive it.”

“Forgive it,” he echoed introspectively, taking one more step closer.

“I know that you couldn’t care less if I do or not, but how can I respect myself if I just accept it when I know I don’t have to?”

Not leaving your eyes, he spun the chair and walked around it before taking a seat and leaning forward onto his elbows. Still you were only a few inches taller than him as he sat, his head angled up to yours just slightly while he kept steady in his gaze. He chewed his tongue for a moment, looking at you with concentration, considering his next move. “I can’t change what I did to your friend,” he said, the first time he hadn’t referred to Mason as _the physician_. “I can’t rationalize allowing you back into general practice, because-,”

“Are you kidding me, I-,”

“ _Because_ ,” he said, voice rising with his brow, “there are too many factors to consider when taking the surveillance detail into account.” The effort he was making to actually explain himself was obvious in his voice, the words leaving unsteadily as he looked over your face.

“Half of those factors would disappear if you would trust that I’m professionally competent.”

His head tilted and his eyes narrowed, appearing like he didn’t understand you, rejecting your words like they were frivolous in nature. “Why would I think anything other than that?”

“Some of the things you said. Mainly being _you can’t mess up_ and _how’d you get here in the first place_. It’s obvious you don’t think I know what I’m doing.” A slight warmth came over the helices of your ears, just the thought of his demeanor that day was enough to fluster you.

He sat back in the chair, face splayed into earnest. “I understand you don’t think it’s protection, but knowing what I do, I’ve seen how vindictive the Board can be. They twist things to fit their agenda. When I looked through your file I _did_ actually make sure you knew your stuff.”

Looking at him, seeing how stern his face was, how much his body language had shifted since you’d entered the small observance room, you knew he was being honest. “Okay, that’s good, I guess. But how does that have anything to do with the Board and your protection?” Air quotes framed the last word, your arms returning to your sides after the gesture.

“I can say you’re the best nurse throughout every system there is”—his eyes went wide—“but if the Board has a set verdict in mind, it won’t matter. They’ll look at every meticulous task you’ve conducted between the incident and the trial and they’ll dissect it until it turns into something they can accuse you of.” Even in the red haze of the room you could see the blood bite at his cheeks. It appeared he did actually believe he was protecting you.

Shaking your head, you rolled your eyes and hiccuped out a breathy laugh, looking down at him with incredulous eyes. “All you had to do was tell me that instead of…” you avoided mentioning the act as it sickened you to even think about it.

He swallowed and dipped his head away from you momentarily, his face meeting yours with something you could only name as guilt when he returned; however vague it was, it was still set in his eyes, even in the way his mouth set slightly lower. “Don’t forgive me.”

It almost made you trip backwards how open the request was. Not even the fact that he didn’t want forgiveness, but the knowledge that he understood there was forgiveness to be granted at all. Mindlessly you took a step forward, your shoe catching on the tip of his boot before inching your step back. This was something you hadn’t considered; the idea that you didn’t have to move on from it, that you didn’t have to accept his actions or swallow back the hurt they’d caused. You could allow yourself the grace and time to heal without disregarding yourself or your beliefs. It made your heart skip, an invisible wall collapsing as if he’d said the magic words.

“I… don’t think I will.” There was apprehension in the admission, still not fully sure how to look at him, conflicted by how you wanted to reach out to him.

His face didn’t move, guarding you from any reaction he might’ve had. “You were right earlier.”

“Can you be more specific?”

He shook his head and stifled a smirk, his own hands awkwardly reaching out over his knees like he, too, wanted to feel you. “Someone was in my ear.”

Shifting your stance just slightly, his knees met your thighs and your balance stuttered, his hands steadying you at your sides; quickly after your equilibrium returned, though, they were gone as fast as they’d come. An incessant ache stupefied you as it resonated both in your chest and between your legs. It was unsettling how easily you could switch between wanting to rid this man from your life and wanting this man to quell your need for him. Maybe against your better judgement, you allowed yourself a small indulgence.

Trailing the tips of your fingers along his hairline, you pushed them over his scalp, thumbs rubbing into his temples before you leaned down into his neck and pressed your lips against the warm tip of his ear. With his throat so close, you heard him swallow, felt the rise in his temperature as his body heat twisted into yours, his hands still keeping to his own legs. Taking a minute, you pressed your nose into his hair, smelling him as you leaned away and traced the tip against his jaw before finding his eyes once more.

“I mean, I couldn’t see anyone in there, so.” You teased him as your face warmed, thankful for the screens’ red camouflage, your fingers still slightly holding his jaw.

His lips parted as something of a faint smile tried to form, a small gust of amusement blowing over your wrists and in turn sending shivers down the backs of your legs. You wanted more of him, still. He was here, seemingly for the taking for however long time would permit at the moment, and you wanted him. After a month of spitting silent curses over him, searching for an explanation you didn’t think would come, you found yourself overtaken with a yearning you’d never experienced, like your skin was pulling you into him. Basking in this feeling – whether it was freedom or assuredness or desire, or all three – you placed one arm around his shoulders and sat your legs perpendicular over his own, fingers tugging at the cowl around his neck.

“Where did this come from?” You traced the edge of the article while your knuckles grazed his throat, your mouth twisting into a telling smirk.

Finally he took a hand and coiled it around the back of your neck, his gaze attracting yours as electricity buzzed beneath his hand. “I don’t know, I just grabbed it before leaving earlier.” His other hand came up to your cheek, its gloved warmth only adding to your need.

He didn’t initiate it, his lips only meeting yours when you leaned into him, your other hand ravishing into his hair for stability. It was a slow, building encounter, his mouth melting into yours as you breathed against his cheek, angling your head into his in an effort to keep him as close as possible. Below you, you felt him growing harder, cunt pulsing at the knowledge as a slight moan sank into his mouth. Shifting on top of him, you held his face as you worked to straddle him, legs framing against his hips as his hands held both your hip and your hair.

“I’ve missed you,” you said while taking a breath, feeling a sense of familiarity with him after so long, finding the man you’d slept next to, remembering the way he’d held you.

He grunted before gifting you the longest, deepest, nearly skin-vibrating kiss, his hands landing to grip over the tops of your thighs before he pulled away and looked at you. In his eyes lied an endless amount of reciprocation, an abyss of amber you’d never be able to forget as it consumed you in the carmine room. “You cause more trouble than you know.” He was fond in tone, eyes lazily moving between your own.

“I think you forget yourself, Commander.” It felt silly to think you held even some semblance of power over him as he did you.

He lifted your left wrist and checked the time on your watch. It was five, now, your interrogation-turned-tryst lasting nearly thirty minutes. He looked back at you, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “When I’m done, I want to come home to you,” he hummed, voice nearly too low to register, “naked in my bed, understood?”

Flames took residence over your entire face, cheeks burning at his bluntness. Stifling a giggle, you leaned into him once more and nuzzled into his nose before brushing your lips against his. “Understood.”

As he stood, he kept his lips on yours, your feet meeting the ground as he held your hips. You were reluctant in breaking away from him, standing on your tippy toes before he was too far out of reach. Sometimes it was unfair how much power he had just in his height. He turned to leave but you needed to get something clear.

“Kylo,” you blurted out, waiting for him to turn back around. He looked at you with intent, watching you chew your cheek. “This doesn’t fix everything.”

He considered you, peering at your nervous face in the fiery cast. “Understood.”

Quickly, he gathered his helmet and placed it back over his head, making a show of returning the cowl to its original state before exiting the room completely. Taking a breath, you ran your hands through your hair, eyes squinting as the screens returned to their live cast of the prisoner, his face now spattered with a red that hadn’t been there before. A few minutes passed as you watched him, face sweaty and tired, guilt filling you as you regarded the inevitable when the door hissed open to the expansive frame of your Master.

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board,” Kylo said, Dameron leaning forward to acknowledge him. “Comfortable?”

“Such an ass,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head before leaving the room, evading the sight of another torture.

You backtracked your way through the halls, only getting lost once as you made your way to your quarters. _Home to you_ , however unthinkingly he’d phrased it the words still sang in your veins while you trekked towards the Elite lobby. The Finalizer was bustling with an influx of workers you’d never seen, bodies rushing past each other, every one tripping over the next as they fought towards their own tasks. Though still crowded, the lobby offered more clarity in the faces running through it, allowing you to easily spot the pallor plaguing Talia’s face across the expanse.

“Talia?” You said, not knowing if she could hear you. When she continued to make her way through the room, her gait unsteady in her wake, you shouted after her. “Talia! Hey!”

Her face turned towards yours, shocking you in its unrecognizable shade of pale green. She looked like she could keel over any second. Pushing past crowds of people, you met her as fast as you could, your hands stabilizing her shoulders when you did. “Hey, hey are you alright?”

She couldn’t focus on you, her eyes spinning, barely settling on one solid place for more than a second. Following her focus with your face you eventually caught her attention, her lips dry and pale. “Hey, Harper, c’mon. Sit down, okay? I’m gonna help you.” She barely nodded in response, diaphoresis obvious over her colorless face as you lowered her to the ground.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She patted at the floor, legs trying to stand back up. “I need to see Armitage,” she murmured as you pulled her back down.

“General Hux? Talia, do you know where you are?”

“I need, I have to… I have to go.”

She had to be dehydrated at the least, but this seemed much more intensive, almost like a metabolic imbalance if you had to guess. “Talia, hey, listen to me. I’m gonna get some help, alright?” You kept your hands coiled into her shoulders as you screamed for assistance, multitudes of faces turning to you, more jumping away than running to help. An older worker came to Talia’s right side. To your surprise, he whipped out a penlight. Upon further examination, you recognized him from the night it all went wrong. He was the physician who’d switched spots with you so you could run for the blood.

“How long has she been like this?” He asked, tilting her head back and feeling her pulses.

“I spotted her not even two minutes ago, she was pale and diaphoretic. She’s disoriented and insists on seeing General Hux.”

“Hux, yes I need to see H-,”

Talia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head before the tremors began, drool slipping over her bottom lip before you could get her completely on her side. Keeping your hand under her face to protect her from concussing herself you watched as vomit hiccuped onto the reflective tiles. The physician spoke into his pager, requesting a transport team and a stat order for phenytoin upon arrival and a standing order for maintenance fluids upon regulation. The crowd buzzed, more people joining the scene and forming a semicircle to view your friend’s trauma.

When a hand met your shoulder you felt a surge of relief, locking eyes with the physician to inform him to keep his hand under her head. When you stood, you looked up to find two red armored guardsman standing in front of you. These were Snoke’s men, you’d recognized their uniforms from the stories you’d heard. Not even ten seconds after crawling up from the floor were your hands twisted behind your back and fixed into handcuffs.

“What the hell? I can’t leave her!” The scream tore over your larynx, your arms attempting to break free of their hold. “Let me _go_!”

Two hands, one from either of the Praetorian guards, took residence atop each handcuff, their other grips coming over your shoulders to detain you further. They began to lead you away from the scene, your head contorting back to steal a last glance at your seizing colleague, a fleeting sense of consolation emerging at the sight of a uniformed team of medical professionals blocking her from your view.

“Tell me what this is about!” Your face burned with fury, feet dragging below you as they propelled you towards their destination.

“The Supreme Leader commands your presence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, my note last week was a bit ominous. But for good reason as I am the biggest blabbermouth when I'm excited/nervous/dreadful over something. And I can't explain how I am very much all of those things about this fic. I spent two days plotting the next few chapters and I had to stop a few times because I got overwhelmed. I think it's a combination of things I've had planned finally coming to fruition and the knowledge that I'm the one that has to write them.
> 
> Leaving you with a less chaotic message this week, but please please tell me what you think! I love hearing everyone's thoughts and theories about it all. I never imagined that we'd be here four months ago, but I'm so super stoked that we are.
> 
> \- ST


	19. A Powerful Motivator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could you have ever known? You couldn't. You have to accept that.

Only when the elevator doors had shut did the two men unhand you, the absence of their detention obvious as the tissues they’d bitten into amplified with your pulse. The crimson captors stood silently, soullessly, at either of your shoulders, posture so strict not even their armor shifted as you were propelled upwards. If they hadn’t been so obvious in their initial pursuit you were sure if you tried hard enough you could convince yourself you were alone, believe this was any other day and you weren’t venturing towards the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The latter half was true; you _were_ only moments away from encountering Snoke. Though, however many people resided in the blaring white of the elevator, you knew you were wholly and entirely alone no matter what.

There was no floor indicator, clueing you into the fact that there was only one intended destination of this trip. Eternity clawed into the stunned flesh of your lungs, the ride simultaneously taking forever and going too quickly. The only scenario you could imagine waiting for you was one of the premature finality of your life; whatever mangled state of your body that would satisfy Snoke was only to be collected once your soul had left in the wake of his fury. Thinking of how the only people who’ve ever met him at such a low rank as you was blood-stilling; there were only stories of demise, grave retellings of endless officers never leaving the doomed automatic doors. Though you’d anticipated at least another month before you’d take your last breath, the closer you came to meeting the superior of superiors you reconsidered that date, your mind racing to think of every last statement you’d made to those you cared for. Would the last familiar face you’d ever see really be that of a nameless physician as he knelt over your co-worker’s seizing body? Nothingness crowded the corners of your attention, too many regrets and unfulfilled wishes tearing through every last gnarled second you had.

The two goons took hold of you again, this time instead gripping into your axillae and elbows. The gesture was suspicious, laced with motives unknown to you when they didn’t apply pressure. They were waiting on something they’d come to expect, or something they’d been instructed to anticipate. Whichever it was, you couldn’t see a reason to struggle against them; there was no escaping this, there was no way around your fate here. The only things left to do were endure and survive, and you weren’t even sure how much control you had over either at the moment.

The first set of doors hissed open as the diagonal split revealed a second, the perpendicular opening of the outer set offering a shutter-like introduction to the room. In the first half second of taking in your new surroundings, not even having left the elevator yet, your lungs shriveled in on themselves as a ragged strike of unadulterated pain rang through your skull. With every last remaining breath came an unintelligible utterance of curses and shrieks. It felt like every sutured connection of your skull was coming apart, your ears ringing with a piercing screech while your throat shredded against every new scrambled sound wave. The only thing keeping you vertical was the guards’ support, your legs forgetting their purpose as each nerve ending twisted in torment. White hot fury licked at each synapse until your head seemed it would implode, sound no longer registering as the worst of it fringed out over your spine and down your tailbone, eyes searing into the impossible agony behind pinched lids.

Torture had a knack for disproving the existence of time; it was unclear how long you’d been screaming when your ears tuned back in, hearing the remnants of a desecrated voice as it faltered into heavy heaves of breath. The armored soldiers were seemingly trained in the ramifications of this event, only releasing you when you had just enough strength and consciousness to support yourself, vision coming back slowly as a loud _clack_ and _hiss_ came from behind. Gathering the rest of your bearings you spun to find the exit had locked and the two guards had their staffs – equipped with electric blades at the tips – locked into an X behind you, further silent explanation of just how trapped you were.

“You’ll excuse the insurance,” a booming, slithering, rattled voice came, commanding every nerve ending to fire at once, every life-sustaining system halting simultaneously. “I can’t risk this meeting getting back to your Master, now can I?”

The guards took a step forward, your own feet stumbling backwards as they ushered you further into the room. There was a walkway, at least ten paces long and five wide, which mirrored the dusky red coming from the overhead lights. The room was incredibly dark, shadows billowing from each support lining the expansive space. Taking one last backward step, your shoe scuffed against the black-mirrored tile, a jump start to your heart as you caught view of the true enrapturement that enveloped you currently.

The far wall was a muted red, light evading it as it stretched upward, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the shadow-thick ceilings. Beside you were two railings, only ending when the walkway opened into a geometric stage. Saliva abandoned your mouth when you pictured being cast down into the unknown emptiness which framed you at either side. Drawing closer, harsh-yet-steady steps forcing you forward, an undeniable dread formed at the sight of several torture-entailing apparatuses scattered about the arena; two platforms rose slightly from the floor, mirrored in their placement as two more hung just above them. For all you knew, one of them would be your likely demise.

There was power in giving the Supreme Leader your attention, so instead you focused on that which framed him, feeling a nauseating sense of violation as his stare seeped into your presence. Six red-armored men framed him, three on either side, all of which held various versions of the weapons which buzzed behind you, a warning raging on as each _zap_ rippled new goosebumps into your scalp. Without a single mistaken glance, your eyes traced the throne that framed your Supreme Leader; the grandiosity of its height intermixed with the cold architecture it stemmed from created an unease rooted in the discomfort that something so dull and lifeless could emerge a sense of such utter intimidation.

A halo of bright white burst from below the cathedra, framing the symmetrical sterility just above the incline it sat upon. You’d passed the railing by now, losing a sense of hopeless protection in its absence. The only thing that quelled your fears of being catapulted into the abyss was the fact that it hadn’t happened already. Seemingly, given you were still breathing – though, the quality of each breath could be questioned – there was a purpose in your being here, an exception to the expendable officers that came before you.

The footsteps stopped, yours following suit just one pace ahead of them. Between your feet you studied the excruciating eyes peering back at you, wondering how much more pain or violence or trauma they could endure before they lost every bit of life they once held. It astonished you how bleak they’d already become, how unrecognizable you appeared in the glinting pool of ebony below. To look into your eyes now was to plead with the past, beg to go back, wish that you’d never crossed paths with Kylo Ren.

But then another thought, quick and biting and familiar, trickled into the blown reflected pupils: you couldn’t wholeheartedly make that request anymore. Even facing whatever haunting future Snoke would present, there was a rejection in considering never meeting your Master. Though he’d completely uprooted every aspect in your life, entirely deconstructed your every belief, in facing the unknown – whether it be death or something worse – you knew that part of you had grown to want him. To need him, even. A fog of regret clouded your vision when you remembered the last words you’d said to him. _This doesn’t fix everything_.

And maybe it didn’t, maybe you still held reservations to preserve whatever remaining self-respect you clung to. But if given the chance to go back ten minutes, to be in his arms again, to feel him so warm and so close? To instead forgive what he’d done, even if it meant compromising your pride? Right now, periphery dancing around the blurry frame of the Supreme Leader, you would take it without thought. If you were to be haunted by one last thing, let it be the pitiful nonexistence of your spine instead of the ache taking root imagining never seeing the black-winged Adonis which held your every thought.

“It’s disquieting,” Snoke said, introspection and examination flagrant on his tongue, “to feel familiar with such a young, useless officer.”

There was nothing left to look at, no more metallic stylings to admire. The last object of your attention sat before you atop the soulless steel, lounging lazily against the backing. He wore a robe dripping in gold-flecked thread, his lower body encased in the wrappings. At his waist sat a tie to keep the article tight against his abdomen, leading to the exceedingly low V of the robe’s opening. The skin that lied beneath was marbled in scars which echoed the remnants of a life lived in war. Though, given his rank, his authority, you already knew that to be true.

Talons sprung from bleak fingers, tips tracing into the fronts of either armrest in repetitive horizontal paths. The sight begged the question if he was entirely human, such an animalistic quality forcing your teeth together with fear. Quickly, though, inquiry was replaced with a blaring affirmation; the face that peered back at you incited astonishment of the coldest nature. Even then, was it even a face? Or just the personification of withered, battle-bludgeoned, venom-stained malice?

A shiver shook your chest, eyes too enthralled in the chaos of features to care about social niceties. Agony tinged into your blood, eyes blinking back the sight of the knots of flesh constructing his neck, burrowing notches creating pathways leading to an unknown you’d prefer not to think about. Half his face chinked into itself, a hollowed-out cheek splaying into stretched, melded strings of scarred skin. An asymmetrical mount of flesh stood where his nose supposedly was, two crystal-clear sea green eyes lopsided at either side of it. Above the caverns of his sockets laid a semi-centered gash sinking unsettlingly far into his scalp.

Though he’d done nothing to provoke it other than exist, you feared him. Briefly you considered if he’d become this way purposefully, wondering if his outward appearance worked advantageously towards his goal at inciting sheer terror in his victims. In the comfortable distance you fought to keep your jaw shut, senses overpowered by the gnarled suggestion of life founded in your Supreme Leader.

He tore through your first and last name in guttural pronunciation, metal walls screaming back the echo of your name as it reverberated from his mouth into your soul. “Ranked forty-eight out of one hundred and twenty graduates. Born to no one of acclaim. Heir to nothing. Yet, provider to my prodigy.” He still sat back, words clawing into you as you imagined his talons could. “Why do you think that is, officer?”

Swallowing against your throat, spit nowhere to be found, your lips parted in hesitance, not knowing if he actually wanted you to answer. He said nothing, eyes scraping over your stature with every suffocating second you took before speaking. “Supreme Leader,” you faltered out, thoughts barely forming. “It’s an honor to-,”

“I have no time for pleasantries or half-witted pleadings.”

“Sorry sir – err, Supreme Leader. Won’t happen ag-,”

“It will be to your benefit to only speak when spoken to.” His glare withered every remaining fragment of hope which resided just behind your eyes. “Now, tell me, why do you think you have the position that you do?” Every word slithered from him in an encrypted riddle.

Trembling fingers flexed at your sides, your heart racing into indiscernibility. “I was chosen by Commander Ren. I know this.”

“Precisely.” He brought his dusk-tinted claws in front of him, bringing their tips together to form a sharp angle. “Have you ever questioned your placement? Wondered why you weren’t vetted for the assignment?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“Not anymore, though, no?”

It was obvious he was leading you into a trap, though you didn’t know why. “No.” Simple answers offered the most protection from such a predator as Snoke.

A low, rolling hum of gravel came from his throat, his mouth forming into a knowing smirk. The sight stabbed through your sternum. “It’s fortunate that I’ve chosen to make use of you. Calculated answers don’t bode well here, I’d suggest being more forthcoming before I change my mind.”

Pulling your lips into your teeth, you stared into the reflected blue mirroring you. “I found it questionable that I would be chosen for such an esteemed position, yes. I struggled with it for nearly two months while being assigned to my Master. I’ve since overcome whatever doubts I had.”

“It seems you shouldn’t have—” he brought his arms back down, fingers molding against the stark angle of the armrest while he leaned forward slightly “—given your upcoming trial and the events which preceded it. How much longer do you have before your initial hearing?”

“One week, sir. Exactly seven days from today.”

“And how do you suspect that will go, officer? Any early predictions? Gut feelings?”

Though you knew he wasn’t anywhere near you, his appearance – cunning and close-chested – suggested he had taken residence in your head, his questions barely questions and instead breadcrumbs. “I trust the Board will make an educated, unbiased decision. However they end up voting.”

“And the sentencing, the only thing in question is your license, yes? Nothing of more… consequence?”

This was no time to have a smart mouth, though your tongue tingled to question his motives. “My license will be revoked no matter the judgement I receive,” you said, listening as the truth slit through your efforts to avoid it, knowing completely he was making you do so purposely, “I’m being tried for my life.”

“Hm. Remind me, girl,” the way the identifier purred out sent a shudder down your arms, “how did this all start? What did you do to prompt such an uproar?”

He knew all of these answers already, only asking them to see you squirm, to force you to acknowledge his authority. “I took supplies from my Master without the proper permission to acquire them.” He didn’t want or need to hear your argument surrounding the ordeal.

“Certainly a competent professional such as yourself would have good reason to do so, correct?”

A huff of indignant air nearly escaped at the suggestion. “Not one good enough, apparently.” A flash of the man’s face came before you, remembering the way warmth flooded over your fingers while compressing his neck.

“Ah, but you disagree.”

Staring back at him, you could feel the coaxing of his implication, your eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “My thoughts are of no importance, Supreme Leader.”

A contained frenzy lit his expression before he slowly stood from the desolate throne. “Don’t discount yourself entirely, officer. Your thoughts are of much value at the moment,” the robe moved fluidly against him, like it was anatomically attached to his physique.

“How do you mean?” It was growing difficult to keep his stare, wanting nothing more than to drill your eyes to the floor.

“Maybe not your thoughts directly, but thoughts that resemble your presence, your frequency per se.” He formed another pyramid in front of his chest, eyes narrowing into you as he paced on the inclined platform. “However unknowingly, you have become quite the obstacle in Ren’s focus.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t making sense. Whatever he thought had to be a misunderstanding.

“It’s only recently become an issue of mine, hence why I allowed it for so long. And your disruption has proven an asset, in a way turning my disadvantage to an equitable benefit.”

There was no other respectable way to tell him you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so you stood there, eyes tracking his patterned steps while he kept you locked under his own. “Such a young, impressionable officer. The odds were against you to begin with, so I can see the allure his power had, see how you could be so ignorant to the consequences of your decision. Well, I suppose it wasn’t your decision alone, was it?”

A furious intuition rang in your ears to keep still, to disallow any reactions to his speech, to try and tune it out completely if you could. He was walking you down a dangerous path of admission. Again you stayed silent, barely breathing now.

“I suppose I should make my point.” He stopped moving in his repetitive paths and began the descent towards you, your pulse rioting in your chest. “You are to stop all relations and contact with your Master, Commander Ren. Professional or otherwise.”

That momentary intuition turned into a permanent mental siren, skin burning as you realized Snoke knew; he knew about you and Kylo, and you didn’t know how much or how long or how or why. The only thought that could form was one of complete infraction upon your privacy. Paranoia catalyzed a brewing insanity, inwardly questioning ever interaction you’d had with your Master, backtracking routes to imagine any covert cameras or onlookers. If Snoke knew, so did the Board. This solidified your execution. This stole your future. And all you could think of was how stupid you’d been to believe it would’ve resulted in anything other than your own pain and suffering.

“Of course I hate to be the one to get in the way of young love, but-,”

“What? I don’t love him.” The objection came before the words had formed in thought, fast and fumbled as you rejected his phrasing.

Snoke’s face fell to a disinterested snarl, his steps leading him ever closer as his robe draped off of him, smoke following fire. “I don’t care about the details, only that your existence in Commander Ren’s—” a small, terrible smirk turned his expression sinister “— _Kylo’s_ , I suppose, life has begun to distract him from his duties.”

“And how would you know any of this is true? What if you’ve received false information?”

“Speak when spoken to, girl!” He flung out a hand, with it coming the most intense blockade to oxygen you’d ever experienced, blood immediately pounding against your skull. “Did you really think it was a coincidence you were the only officer to receive a letter upon arrival to the Finalizer? Did you think yourself so entirely special and set apart that I, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, would care enough – or at all – to welcome the most lackluster provider in the program?” He was full on roaring, ears pierced with each booming, malicious redundancy.

He began to circle you, your feet lifting from the floor as the Force continued to steal your breath. “It made no sense for Ren to request such a subpar provider as you, so I gathered intel, placed surveillance of my own, formed a team to compile all the information and present it to me when it became an issue as I knew it would from the beginning.”

Heaves of wordless pleas came as you gripped onto your own throat, clawing at hands that weren’t there, vision blackening as time went on. “I’ve watched you, seen your friends, listened to your conversations.” A hysterical, crazed laugh bellowed from him, the scraps of skin over his neck bouncing in rhythm. “You didn’t even think twice about being the only provider to live with her Master. Didn’t even have the brainpower to suspect something was off. Stupid, emotional girl.” The darkness in the clear blue of his eyes was unsettling, like there was no soul behind them at all. “You are not, and will never be, special. You will only ever be the start and end of the issue.”

By now your lips were surely blue, the vessels in your eyes on the verge of explosion, but he was relentless in his point. “You’ve quite the stamina, though I regard there isn’t much choice involved,” he said, sly staining his features. “I could be wrong, given I’ve only heard a few of your… _interactions_ , and viewed just one. Though, I can’t believe you’d want anything to do with him after the incident last month.”

If it could, blood would be filling your cheeks with a desert heat fueled by the fires of embarrassment and disgust at the thought of Snoke knowing about your relationship, let alone hearing you, _seeing you_ , have your will taken away. Every sexual interaction you’d shared with Kylo ran quick and fleeting across your fading sight, wondering which ones he was referring to, simultaneously wanting to know and to never think of the fact ever again. Although the invisible grip kept strong around your neck, you felt the urge to vomit, to reject completely the knowledge he’d just given you.

“Trial this, door that, practice this, Robbie that. All of these things lie just below the forefront of his mind, distractions from his true responsibilities. And they all focus around you and your pathetic, meaningless life.” Snoke bit off the words as spit sprayed in the low light.

Altogether his hand came down and your knees crumbled onto the floor below, the joints screaming in protest while your lungs flourished with new, vibrant gusts of oxygen. Palms pressed to the floor, spit coughing past your lips and onto your reflected face, you allowed your body to find equilibrium, all the while aware of the predacious nature of Snoke’s paces.

“What can I do that will fix any of this?” There was no longer a need to show respect, bluntness forming over your tongue now as hiccups of breath swelled in your chest.

“As I mentioned, you may have started this ordeal, but _you_ will be the one to end it as well.” His steps stopped just in your periphery, a long pause forming between you, his own reflected face just feet from yours. “I’ve chosen to take this as an opportunity to both refocus Ren and reinforce his priorities, and you’ll find this arrangement will be beneficial to the both of us,” his pitch rose just enough as he said your last name to run creeping chills down your arms.

“If I’m such a wrench in your plans, why not just kill me? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Sitting back on your heels you rubbed your temples, vision still not wanting to focus.

“Easier, yes. Though, ending your life would barely serve to my advantage. I don’t understand why, but Ren is rather invested in you. To kill you would be to make him my enemy, and I still have use for him and his legacy as of now.”

“I will never, _ever_ , do your dirty work. You disgust me.” Blinking back in the light, his second face met the first and aligned into one solid image, your pulse still pounding in your ears.

“Don’t make up your mind so fast, officer. I believe once you hear the exchange I’ll make for your compliance that you will be more than eager to join forces.”

He was the most repulsive being you had ever laid eyes on, or ever had to exist with that you’d ever met; a disgusting, selfish, transactional man – _still up for debate_ – who only did anything to advance his own agenda. It was easy to identify what amplified the blood in your veins, to know the culprit that prickled your cheeks in rage. Within you, staring up at this _thing_ , all you knew was how overwhelming the feeling of pure, centered, unrivaled hatred was when it rooted at your sternum and spread until every cell in your body screamed in protest at his presence.

“Even if you did have anything I’d ever want, I would never accept it. I have a duty to protect and serve my Master. Only him. Never you.”

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” he said, beginning his circling again as you listened to the shifting echo of his voice. “I suppose I’ll put two-and-two together for you: in exchange for your gracious compliance, I will ensure you come out of your trial with not only your life – however small and pointless it may be – but also your license to practice.”

He stopped behind you, your face hidden from his observance. The two guards stood firm in their blockading of any exit, the two open abysses free to jump into anytime, though you didn’t believe you held the courage to off yourself. Someone else would need to do it. You wished someone would, now.

Devastation cut into your intestines as you realized you had begun to consider his offer; to your utter disturbance, he held exactly what you wanted, what you knew you needed. A guarantee so grand could only be made by a man of his caliper, the strings he held both incredibly invisible yet impressive in their multitudes. Snoke had the power to make this part of your life disappear, to pluck you out of this misery like it never happened in the first place. But as you regarded earlier, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave the _entirety_ of this season, portraits of perfect lips flickering into your thoughts and reminding you of the compliance you’d be tasked with, noting Snoke had yet to explain it.

Swallowing, hating yourself for considering him, you closed your eyes. “ _If_ I accepted, what would I need to do?”

“ _When_ you accept, you would simply have to quit Ren’s service. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Tell him how he disgusts you. How everything he does, every person he kills is makes you sick. Tell him how he’s an irredeemable bastard who isn’t worthy of your… _care_. Tell him how for the past month it was easier to hate him than it was to breathe. It’s that simple.”

A terrifying ripple of regret tore through you, inwardly regarding how all of those things had been true. They _had_ been. However long ago it was now, though, this morning had worked to undo nearly all of those damages. “You know it’s not simple,” you bit back a derogatory name, still aware of the bottomless pits framing the platform, “why does it have to come from me? Why can’t you tell him? Or Hux? Why does it have to be me?”

“You are the key, officer.” He came back into view, his presence prompting you back to your feet, arms crossed and face flat. “If anyone else were to inform him, it would be clinical. Corporate. You and I both know Ren isn’t keen on being told what to do, especially when there is no reason for him to do so.”

Slowly your heart was coming down, fingers digging into your arms as he continued to speak. “But from you, oh from _you_ ,” he emphasized, his tone growing in volume and exuberance, “it will be a personal attack on his soul. For someone he regards with such admiration, though ill-placed and confused, to tell him they don’t want him…”

“It will break him,” you finished the thought, voice a broken whisper.

“And in turn undo the damage you’ve caused. Something I’ve come to realize in my lifetime: betrayal is a powerful motivator.”

Was it selfish to believe that what you’d _caused_ wasn’t damage? To choose to view how his thoughts caressed you as something wonderful and worthy of cherishing instead of a plague which poisoned him? To even have that knowledge now incited the light from a million stars. To know that his stunt last month was brought on by doubts placed by the same man who was recruiting you to hurt him in an irreversible way was to feel your heart piece back together. He really _hadn’t_ wanted to, but in some way he was made to. Within your chest lied an immeasurable amount of disgust, eating away at your withering resolve. Not for Snoke, but for yourself. Taking any opportunity to stall your decision, you fought back tears while inquiring further.

“And if I choose not to? What then?”

Snoke’s eyes momentarily lit, surprise quickly returning to a shuddering contempt. “You would die for him? Give your life for Kylo Ren, the one who made you-,”

“Don’t you _dare_ say anything about that night. You’re the one who instigated his actions, I know it.”

Like it had been there all along, a bright white fury shone against your face, the clean blade of Snoke’s lightsaber buzzing just next to your ear. You listened as hair singed off, smelled as it blew down to your shoulder in its fried state.

“Even so,” he said, apathy palpable in his voice, “you asked what would happen if you refused? Well, it wouldn’t make sense for me to kill you here and now, debilitating any future opportunity I would have at using you to my advantage.”

The weapon’s heat started to burn against the sensitive skin of your face, its proximity prompting sweat at your hairline. “No, if you refuse me, blatantly renounce your Supreme Leader, I’d use much more effective, much more… _personalized_ tactics.” He angled the lightsaber so its tip was just below your ear lobe, its vibrations lingering into the trembling skin over your neck. “Maybe first I’d finish what Ren couldn’t in that McCarty physician you like so much. Though I’d still ensure you endured your trial, even when I would make it impossible for the Board to grant you your life. Maybe even arrange to execute you myself,” he narrowed his eyes, “or, I’m sure Ren would have no problem volunteering himself after I tell him how you informed me of your affair in an effort to quit his service.”

A rage-stuttered laugh came from your chest. “ _You’re_ the irredeemable bastard.”

Snoke snarled once more before quieting the white fury of his blade, your sight inking in its absence. “This is a one-time offer, girl. Don’t let the urgency of your youth blind you from your reality.”

It only angered you more that he was making sense. “And what would that be?”

The flesh at his jaw set uncomfortably against his healed injury. “You have something I need, and I have something you need. It’s simple business.”

“Nothing about this will ever be simple.” The phrase was vacant in tone and broken with acceptance.

He knew he was about to get what he wanted. “Do we have a deal, officer?” He extended his decrepit hand, a notion of finality.

Shaking your head, one single tear – hot and betraying and shattered – ran down your cheek, your head a concoction of torment. You didn’t want to do this at all, but just as he’d done to Kylo, Snoke wriggled your head full of contradicting truths. Truths you had worked hard to suppress, truths which lied dormant until now. A half-skip in your heart bloomed from the thought of never spending another moment with your Master, a harrowing torrent of guilt as you regarded his verbalized trust, visualizing how entirely decimated it would be when this was over. Not even decimated. Completely obliterated. Like it never existed in the first place.

“When does this have to be done by?” you whimpered, hand falling into his before his knotted joints cracked into your knuckles.

“By the end of today, if Kylo Ren hasn’t returned to his focus, your trial will become the biggest waste of time and currency the galaxy will ever bear witness to.” He dropped your hand, clasping his together within the confines of his robe, turning back to his throne. “Take her away.”

Not that you were aware, physically or mentally, your arms were ceased once more as your feet dragged lifelessly below you, face stunted as hatred burned below the surface, floods of shame and loathing dripping down your neck and staining into your uniform. The trip back down seemed impossibly short, though you didn’t know if that was due to its direction or your indifference. Before, your only thought had been never leaving from Snoke’s presence. Now, as you stared into the bustling crowds of the Finalizer, the doors locking shut behind you as your earlier captors vaulted back to their leader, your only thoughts were focused on the harm you were indebted to cause. A pain that scraped against the very foundation of your being. A pain you were now required to deliver.

“Hey, stranger!” Mason came out of nowhere, his cheery voice violent against your somber ears.

“I can’t talk right now, Mason,” you said, hiding your face and turning towards the Elite lobby.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did _Ren_ do some-,”

“Go away, Mason!”

He caught you by your wrist, your arm lurching back towards him before he caught view of your crushing expression. He lulled your name, eyes dancing over your features. “What is this about? Your trial?”

Lips trembling and brow creased, you yanked your arm from his. “Don’t worry about the trial, Mason. It’s handled.”

Turning away from him you dashed into the crowds. “What does that even mean?” Mason shouted at you.

A heave crested your back, face split in an agonizing grimace while you licked salty tears from your mouth. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, only saying it out loud to solidify the reality Snoke had pointed out.

“It means I have to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello newcomers. I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far. And if this is the first update you're receiving. Well. So sorry. If you've gotten this far you already know there's a lot of pain and angst here.
> 
> I very much hope this chapter had the effect I wanted. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Stay safe, be honest, and take care.
> 
> \- ST


	20. It Can Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are better left unsaid.

The ringing silence of the elevator lied in stark contrast with the bustling chaos currently inhabiting the rest of the Finalizer, though it was hardly a relief. The quiet was no salve, only allowing the roaring thoughts to claw deeper into your skull, your head pounding as fingers dug into red, wet eyes. No amount of physical torture would ever compare to the unrelenting wound encapsulating the entirety of your soul, knowing it would be less enduring to physically rip out your own heart than to eviscerate the connection you’d formed with Kylo.

Just an hour ago you would have given anything to never think of him again, spending every thought half-wishing your head would already leave your body so you didn’t have to think about any of it anymore, growing in the belief that there was nothing left to fight for any longer. Now, as you stood with hiccuped breath and unwanted tears, there was an undeniable truth that at least _one_ thing still mattered, the very thing – person – who’d prompted the hopeless outlook to begin with. Snoke gave you an ultimatum, but in doing so had offered insight into the mind you so deeply wished you could read.

That is what made the task so sickening, made your chest contort with an inexorable plague of guilt, made your cheeks burn with the friction of quick hands wiping away the infinite supply of torment weeping down your face – Kylo Ren held you in his thoughts, too. The possibility had sparsely crossed your mind for the past month, your own head too busy wasting time chasing an answer you didn’t want, one you learned was barely Kylo’s to give. Worsening the constant and blaring ache was the confusion you felt when considering the fact that Snoke didn’t have to tell you anything other than your task; it ate at your sanity to think if this blinding guilt was a purposeful manipulation or if it was your own doing, nails digging into the heels of your hands while you questioned the reality you’d been thrust into.

Multiple attempts at words were made in the upward catapult towards your duty, tears suffocating any practice efforts, the thoughts themselves barely finishing in their cognitive state. _I hate you_ , you would have to say, the mere thought inspiring an image of the guarded brokenness they would outfit the face of their recipient. It would be more complicated than that. You would have to work at convincing him, at convincing yourself, that they were true; the conversation would never end there, those first three words being the foundation for the very obliteration of two souls, not just the one they were intended for.

The floor indicator rocketed upward with the apparatus, slowing as you neared the place – the _home_ – you were meant to return to much earlier, regarding the radar on your watch indicated you wouldn’t be alone when you got there. Inverse to the slowing machine was your heart, picking up as you clawed away at the betraying tears, hoping it would still be too dim for him to notice your puffy face, knowing there was nothing that would disguise the pain which resided in your voice. There was no courage to be built up in performing such a wicked act, only the presence of a previously unimaginable amount of shame to accompany you in your journey towards both life and death – living past your trial to lay witness to the murder of a considerable piece of your heart.

With two floors left before the doors were to shoot open, you considered what you were ensuring in doing this. Snoke had promised you a life and a license, but in questioning what would happen if you denied him, he’d in turn threatened another life that had already been threatened by the very person you were instructed to destroy. Mason had been unfairly roped into the tragedy that had become your life; if it was the last thing you did in this realm, you were going to do everything in your power to keep him from becoming collateral damage. He had already endured too much of what was intended for you, and to even imagine him dead _because_ of you – not only in _place_ of you – was to have another crack splinter upwards from the apex of your heart.

A rush of air made obvious the remaining tears which stuck to your cheeks, frustrated fingers working to scrape them out of existence, your teeth lodging into your bottom lip in an effort to stop any more from forming as you stepped out into the concrete foyer. The last time you’d been here had played on an endless loop since leaving, remembering the stars in his eyes, the feeling of being so close to the person you’d encountered multiple times since. Before now, you’d believed that night had been the worst pain you’d experienced, the feeling of Kylo pulling away vivid in its agony. With that memory came the reminder of the trust he’d admitted, remembering how forced and stunted the words had come out, seeing how difficult it was for him to even say those three syllables. Soon, though, it would be nonexistent, regretted, and torn apart, the thought bringing a full wave of nausea to your stomach.

There was too much to say yet standing in the freezing entryway you were starved of words, knowing none would make this easier, hoping some would at least surface to get it over with. Folding into yourself, head slumping down while your arms wound tight to your chest, you moved further into the quarters, walking into the great expanse and taking it all in, memorizing it as you knew this would be the last time you’d be here. On the counter sat his helmet, chrome bars glinting in the low light, and his cowl, half of the tattered article swaying as it hung from the marble. You trudged over to it, fingers barely brushing the rough fabric, regarding it in deliberate remembrance.

“I wanted to find you here,” Kylo said, voice far away and echoed.

Turning, stealing one last glimpse of the black cowl, you found him looking past the glass wall, staring into space with his hands relaxed at his sides, shoulders steady and slow with his breath. Even though his face was hidden you were enamored by his posture, admiring him with a wilting heart while words formed slowly over your tongue.

“I know—” your throat stuck, steps slowly bringing you to him “—something… I got pulled away. Didn’t look at the time.”

“Where were you?” His voice was void of any threatening tone, something that hinted at concern edging his question.

Only a few paces from him now, you brushed your fingers along the elegant line of the crimson instrument. The only thing keeping you from telling Kylo everything about your morning was the morbid thought of Mason’s lifeless body, blue lips and mottled skin reminding you how completely trapped you were beneath Snoke’s thumb.

“Right after you went to… finish your job,”—Dameron’s face quickly flashed into view, the reality of Kylo Ren’s practices settling in once again while you begged the beyond for any way to begin this conversation—“I had every intention of doing as you said, but I… I ran into a friend and she wasn’t well and then she started to-,”

When you took one last step, stopping within one stride of him, he turned around, stopping whatever pitiful sequence of words you had begun to ramble about in an attempt to evade the inevitable. The artificial lighting offered just a slight sense of early morning, his features contoured in shadow while his hair fell in graceful waves over his face. You’d expected him to be more rigid about your absence, to have some sort of angry emotion twisted into his features, or at the very least an expression of stoicism. A trill of light bolted into your bloodstream when you saw the slightest, most fragmented, brief moment of peace come over his face when he laid eyes on you.

“You and your friends,” he tsked, stepping forward so your head angled up to the glinting honey irises tickling between your eyes, “None of you have any concept of time.”

“Yeah, I-,”

His hands came to pull you into him, bound by the small of your back and the nape of your neck, lips melting into yours and fuzzing your purpose for being here. The one time you wished he’d punish you, hurt you for being late so you could suffer even an nth of what you felt you now deserved, he was breathing in your body like he’d been suffocating for years. The hand at your hair was pushing your face into his, his tongue slipping past your teeth while you stood stunned and overwhelmed in his closeness. His hold was aching, twisting the knife you’d yet to place; all you wanted was to stay here and pretend it was this simple, let yourself exist here for as long as you could and accept the fatality it promised. But you knew you couldn’t.

Weak hands smoothed over high cheekbones, your eyes hesitantly opening while you bit at your cheek, an anvil of grief falling onto already heavy shoulders. “I have to…”

He wasn’t looking at you, he was _seeing_ you, and you were crumbling. With every jerked movement of his eyes, pupils wide with focus, you saw him, too. The feeling exiled every word, your attention now solely centered on committing him to memory; to match the stars behind him was a constellation of tiny moles splayed over his features, their presence so human and true and gentle. A pang at your heart lit when mapping the notch between his chin and bottom lip, another dull ache when tracing your eyes up his jaw to admire the prominence of his ears hiding behind soft billows of obsidian. Lips that had just broken from yours were flushed and full, their presence making your own part, the muscles under your eyes tensing inward while words disappeared entirely.

“What do you have to do?” Breath fueled the lustful question as his attention settled completely on your mouth, fingers at your neck twisting, pulling you closer while they sent shivers down to your toes.

A knot formed in your throat. He was too beautiful, your lungs stalling as you pushed a shaking hand through his full locks, your every effort focused on keeping any tears a secret. The knowledge that his head was full of thoughts of you made it that much harder to think, regarding that Snoke had used the word _admiration_ to describe the way Kylo saw you; Snoke had only ever felt Kylo’s feelings, never needing to hear the words come from him to understand they were real and absolute. There was an emptiness in knowing you’d never hear it from Kylo himself, but knowing you weren’t imagining it all nearly brought you to your knees.

This moment contrasted harshly with the last time you’d been here; that night you’d run away from your own feelings for him, not wanting to burn for a man who you didn’t believe could ever do the same for you. But he could. And he did. And he was. Wrapped in his warmth, skin tingling with his touch, you settled in the smoke of his soul; it filled your head with the immortal and hopeless wish to never leave here, its plumes framing your lungs with the tragic idea that one last week with him would be worth more than a lifetime without.

“Kylo, I have to tell you something.” But the image of Mason’s unmoving body clawed at you with new wretchedness, snuffing out your wants, which now felt more like needs, and bringing you to the conclusion that you couldn’t escape this without hurting someone you held in your heart.

His brow creased, hand at your back tightening while he brought your face even closer to his, your weight shifting to your toes while his nose came down to press into your cheek. “It can wait.”

Quivering lips rested just barely against his, the three words unveiling something you hadn’t considered: Snoke said by the _end_ of the day, and the dull shadows defining his features suggested that there were still at least eighteen hours until that clock ran out. It was weak and faulty logic, but whatever resolve you had come here with had all but vanished the second he kissed you, taking with it your sense of reason. Mason would be fine. You would hold up your end of the morally robbed bargain. For now, though, you chose to listen to Kylo, accept that it, in fact, _could_ wait, and you could savor this time with him as you knew it would be the last.

He nuzzled into you in an effort to pull your lips into his once more, but you turned away from him, feeling a profuse need to serve _him_ , to give him something yourself, at your own will and without his direction. Peering up into his gaze, adrenaline punctuated your pulse, a lightning strike spreading over your skin and coursing between your legs as your nerves surged at the idea of pleasing him without his guidance or initiation. In understanding that this would be the last time you could, you wanted to cherish him, wanted to praise him with words and action. You wanted to worship him completely, taking this time as an opportunity to beg him for a forgiveness he was ignorant of, to use your body as an instrument to sound a private apology.

“I was late,” you said, breath warming over his chin when you embraced his eyes in your own, “let me make it up to you.” Your hand twisted beneath his robes and found his cock, hardening while your hand cupped him through leather pants. Stretching upwards, your other hand gripped onto the back of his neck, your lips nipping at his lobe, kissing the heated skin while you basked in his scent. “I want to be your good girl.”

Beneath your fingers you felt the fabric over his groin stretch, cunt clenching at the knowledge you’d earned that. Tracing parted lips from his ear to his mouth, you tightened your grip through the taut leather when your lips locked with his, gusts of breath flooding over his face and your own as you felt him permit your request. Taking your hand from his erection, you found your other, nails biting into the thick armor containing his physique as they fled parallel down his chest. Asking him with your eyes, you floated in his gaze while your hands struggled with his belt, holding your breath until the heavy accessory which held his weapon struck the concrete with a fast _clank_ , heart picking up and throat thickening when you went to unhook the inner workings of his outer robe.

There was an urgency vibrating between your fingers and the machinations of his uniform, growing exacerbated when you found another set of fasteners as the first robe fell to his feet, a huff of aggravation leaving you as you kept his lips on yours.

“Mm, do good girls complain?” It intoxicated you to know he was going along with your plans, his fingers picking at the tips of his gloves while you unhooked the last of his inner armor.

Breaking away from him, you twisted your face into a knowing smirk, circling your tongue around one of your canines. “No, Master.”

One corner of his mouth lifted to match your expression, darkened eyes narrowing before you set out to remove his undershirt. Before you got the chance to hook your fingers into the hem, he caught your wrists and brought them up, resting the hollowed tips of his gloved thumbs at your bottom lip.

“You said you wanted to be my good girl? Go ahead,” he taunted your name, a challenge over his tongue as he pressed the leather onto your tongue, “be my good girl.”

“Yeth, Mathter,” you purred, biting down over the warm ridges of his gloves, pulling your head back and freeing his hands while desire burned hot and bright between you, need flooding in your belly to please him.

The two coverings fell to the floor, your mouth free for less than half a second before he secured yours to his with his hands cupping around your skull, long fingers treading paths of pain into your scalp as he grasped into your hair. He wasn’t allowing you to break from him, the shirt keeping his bare abdomen hidden frustrating as you tried to pull it up. He knew what he was doing, his mouth stretching over teasing teeth at your third attempt.

“You’re not making this easy.” Your fingers busied with his pants instead, fingers leading below the waistline to wrap around the thick base of his restrained cock, hand clasping down into the heavy flesh, feeling his blood throb against your hold.

A stifled grunt bobbed in his throat at your touch, his hips thrusting into you. “I’m just giving the nurse a taste of her own medicine.”

“Hm—” you slid the inner drawstring of his pants and pulled your hand away, fingers hooking into the hem and tugging down to allow them to fall inverted over his boots, his black boxer briefs remaining, his erection obvious behind the tented fabric, throbbing within its confines “—I think I’m ready for my next dose, don’t you, _Master_?”

The way his title dripped from your tongue in pointed, slithered syllables sent his eyes spiraling into a frenzied fervor, cock twitching as you looked between it and his face, your tongue glinting between your teeth while you regarded him in errant hunger. Hot, flushed lips pressed into your neck just below your lobe, the tip of his tongue trailing along as he sucked new proof into electrified skin. Again he ceased your hands, this time lining your fingers up with his, his hands dwarfing your own as he hooked them into the neckline of his shirt. He bit down into your shoulder and as you cried out his hands crushed yours, tearing a centered split through the thick fabric, his work seemingly effortless as the article gave way to his strength, your fingers feeling every thread tear apart as he guided them in his action.

The sound of the shredding shirt evoked a ferocity of primal need deep in your chest, feral hands taking the lead until the hem tore apart completely, the tattered remains of his undershirt hanging loosely over the exposed musculature of his expansive chest. Hard, hot breaths came over your back, his teeth retracting when your hands flitted down his biceps and pulled the remaining clothing from his arms. Curious fingers trickled up to his shoulders and teased his tiding chest, eyes focused on the flowing muscles framing his rib cage, watching them contract and relax with each audible breath.

A single finger lit a path from your clavicle to your chin, your head lifting reluctantly away from what you’d uncovered. His face echoed your need, now, lips parted and throat bobbing as his expression melted into you with an irresistible challenge residing in the iris-set inferno. “Finish what you started, slut.”

An excited rush of air left you, his finger leaving your chin, hands resting at his sides as he left you to your own devices. To have his body offered in its completeness was overwhelming, stunned for a second as you admired every uncovered part of him. Capturing him in your gaze, you lifted one of his hands, hands reaching over his wrist and pushing two thick fingers past your lips, tongue twisting around and parting them while small whimpers left you. The aching heartbeat amplified between your legs as you watched his lips part, saw the ferocity bloom in his features – his upper lip slightly curling, the muscle beneath one of his brows twitching with chaos, nostrils flaring – while you sucked the sizable appendages, moving your head back and forth as your lips passed the same over his knuckles.

The riotous motion of his face worked its way into your bloodstream, a desperate, guttural growl leaving you as you tore his fingers from your mouth and gripped back onto his neck, mouth crushing against his for only a second before you led it down his jaw, kissing and sucking at the flushed flesh while two seeking hands slipped beneath the elastic of his briefs, the warmth the article contained earning a pleading whine from buzzing lips.

“I need you.” The desperate, whispered statement pressed against his nipple, teeth sinking into the raised region before his chest vibrated against your lips, a roar stunted in his throat.

Fingers flexed in ardor fisted into the base of your neck, the collection of straining stands eliciting a pleasure sodden pain reverberating down your back and through your walls. Impatience blared in his stare, mouth half-snarled while your hands began sliding down the straining fabric.

“Then have me.”

The hand at your skull left, your fingertips treading down until your wrists caught, his last covering sliding down as you did, knees meeting the floor as your tongue slipped past his naval; wanton eyes kept his own, entrancement pulsing before and between you, the head of his covered cock pressing into your carotid before you freed him, the sight of his dick springing upward earning a throb from your cunt. A gratuitous growl thundered in his chest as he watched you with stark, demanding eyes, his hips leaning into your face, the tip of your nose burying into the hair outfitting the base, soft lips pressing teasing kisses into the scorching skin.

“You’re the only one I want—” the tip of your tongue skated over an obvious vein, the pulse beating into your mouth while your hand took hold at the solid shaft, grip squeezing into him, his teeth separating with a pant “—the only man I’d ever get on my knees for.”

Your other hand grasped at his hip bone, thumb digging into the hard, rounded surface of his greater trochanter, fingers massaging into the side of his hip, just barely reaching around to his ass, relishing in how firm every part of him was. Craving more of him, you curved your tongue around the shaft, hand moving up and back, slow strokes pulling at him while you listened to his breath catch.

A knee nudged you from him, your throat burning with unrestrained need before you attempted to lunge back into his pelvis, a hand barring you, yet not harming you, by your chin. Swallowing, your face fell into lust, famine for him sticking in your throat. Out of sight, the tip of his boot pushed between your legs, your body bowing at the sudden pleasure.

“You’re forgetting something,” he purred, taunting you with your own hunger by prolonging the time before you could take him into your mouth. “My good girl doesn’t get distracted, does she?”

Three stuttered breaths fell from longing lips, a pitiful half-tantrum at his feet before your hands tread red lines down his leg in preparation to slide the fallen clothing from him in line with his tall shoes. “No, Master, I don’t.”

An angry storm of hectic maneuvers played before you, hands tearing and grappling away the remaining textiles, the first boot shooting behind you with velocity as animalistic exigency possessed you. With one shoe left you took one hand and gripped his erection while biting the skin of his flexing inner thighs, free hand ripping down the last restricting mount of fabric and leather.

“Dirty, feral thing,” he breathed. “I think you’re more of a whore than anything else.”

Finally, his body standing naked and flushed and free, you flattened your tongue under his shaft and led it up, pressure pushing against him, eyes swimming in covetous admiration. The tips of your fingers bit into him, your tongue striping over his head, pussy clenching as you felt the ridges of his length pass into your mouth.

“I can be both, Master—” you tasted the salty collection of precum beading at his tip, dipped your tongue into his slit and ran your hand up and down his shaft, a huff of need stuttering in his chest “—I could be your whore—” the ridge of your top two teeth grazed his head “—and I could be your good girl—” firm, pliant lips pressed against him, grip switching to two teasing fingers along another vein “—I could be anything you want.”

“And a tease apparently.” His brow hitched, your strategy to rile him up working, earning what you wanted: the undeniable proof and presence of his need for you.

In his gaze you were a prisoner; you watched your warden while you finally pulled him into your mouth, tongue flexing under his shaft, feeling him pulsate against your teeth, lungs whining as you were overcome with want as he shuddered at the warm, wet, yearning environment your mouth offered him. When you placed your hand back over his hip bone, the other working dutifully along the unsheathed portion of his length, his own fingers clasped onto it, pain biting beneath his grip and revealing how incredibly strong his need was.

Spurred on by this, you brought him to the back of your mouth, his head hitting your soft palate and forcing an empty gag, a whine vibrating into him and bringing a tense of his jaw before it dropped slack again.

“Look at you – needy, pleading, trying to take all of me in that ti-,” his words faltered when you began sucking against him, cheeks hollowing as you built his release, seeing him grow restless.

His hips thrust into you, the binding hand around your own cracking into your knuckles, the pain serving as a reminder that you were giving your last effort to him, the thought sinking your heart into the depths of your soul. Watching him come undone for _you_ , having him at your mercy even in the slightest way, you were memorizing every piece of him; his smell, the way his skin began to glisten with a thin veil of sweat in the rising light, seeing hazy flashes of shooting stars frame him while his shoulders tided deeper and faster with each purposeful bob of your head.

The question of your worth came heavy and demanding into your mind, mouth tightening around him while your hand followed suit with each stroke, the thought catalyzing you into an inward spiral of the hatred you were working to right. All you could offer him – this man, this _deity_ – was yourself, barely feeling content in how barren that was. Even in pleasuring him you felt you no longer deserved all that he gave you, feeling unworthy of even his twisted protection, guilt shredding into your lungs when remembering the purpose he’d instilled in you the last time you’d been here. To know this was the last time you’d spend with him that wouldn’t be spent in the suffocating grip of hatred – both from him and for yourself – was enough to keep you from caring if Snoke saw it at all.

What shame could be added to your existence? He’d already seen you at your worst, mentioning proudly how he’d watched the actions he’d inspired; what more pain could he cause that he hadn’t already by forcing you to sever completely the ties with the man you… The man you… _Fuck_. That can’t be right. Snoke couldn’t have been right.

Turning your hand on his hip so you were equally tied to him, your nails tore into the side of his index finger, a pitiful sob casting pleasure through his body as you accepted the terrifying truth of your feelings. Tears formed ready and waiting, your gaze set on his impossibly perfect features as they fluidly moved in line with the rising action building his climax, his mouth widening as grunts sputtered from his throat. A heathen’s roar sounded in his chest, his free hand gripping onto yours over his cock, guiding you in pressure and pace.

“Such a good – _fuck_ – such a good girl for me.” Kylo tightened onto yours at his hip, unrefined desperation boundless in his regard. “Finish it,” he swallowed, “just like this.”

After several more strokes with his crushing guidance, his hand rushed into your hair, half-lidded eyes observing you in your attempt to keep his instruction. Warm streaks fell down your cheeks, his head falling back while you pulled him just barely from your mouth and worked his shaft with the hand he’d earlier led. Five breaths, each of increasing speed and volume, came from his slack jaw, the last a moan that ripped down your spine just as you felt the familiar slick, salty substance collect onto your tongue.

The hand in your hair took a fistful, nails scraping into you once more as he collected himself, your hand around his cock fucking him through his release, a sense of pure gratification forming in your chest as you bore witness to your spoils. To see him so incandescently sated, to know it was your final gift to him, your heart withered with pitiful remembrance of the words you’d delayed by creating it.

His breathing slowly came down, chest still rising with each lungful. Feeling him soften, you took him from your mouth, your now empty hand skating to his other hip, thumb petting over the smooth protrusion. His thumb wiped away the sweat that’d amounted over your temple, the hand which held onto yours caressing it limply.

“I wish I could give you more than this,” you said, pressing your nose into his hip, pressing a broken peck over the bone, a tear glittering down your cheek as the room became lighter with each solemn second.

Blinking eyes peered down to you, his hand dropping yours and collecting your jaw, leading you up from your knees. A single star flashed behind him, its appearance altered by stabbing tears while your lip trembled in the dawn-soaked room. A muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched, expression laden with that hinted concern you’d heard in his voice earlier. His attention went to your quivering chin, his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip and holding it there.

“What more are you willing to give?” Without looking away from your mouth, his eyebrows creased together, the words charged and strange between you, yet simultaneously evoking another spill of desire in your belly.

“Kylo,” you whispered, knuckles brushing up his abdomen, feeling him flex along your touch, “there’s nothing more I can… give.” Another hot rivulet streamed into the corner of your mouth. He didn’t know what you were referring to, and you bled for the part of him that you knew cared, but you couldn’t say anything more.

Lingering down your neck, two hands took on the monotonous task of unbuttoning your uniform’s top, your teeth replacing his thumb in its absence. “There’s always more.”

The heat rolling off his body neared that of a sun, your cheeks burning in the presence of the stifling nearness. The last button gave way and he found you again, two pairs of eyes equally searching the other, two separate reasons behind each. Letting your arms fall slack to your sides, he pushed the dress from your shoulders while you kicked your shoes off, his hands effortlessly unclasping your bra before your uniform had met the ground. Looking up at him, you shivered the article off and stepped out of the pile that’d amounted at your feet.

“I can feel how badly you need me,” he said, scorching lips branding the base of your neck, “there’s a reluctance within you, like you’re running away from something. There’s something else,” strong hands came over your hips, thumb pressing into the thin fabric of your panties before they tore through, his grip stretching the ruined garment until it snapped apart at both sides, falling to the floor silently as you caught your breath.

“I’m not running away,” you said, pulling his head from your neck. Now was the only time left to be honest; when you left here, you’d never return, and you were determined to spend your last moments with him ensuring he knew the actual truth you’d just as quickly steal from him later in the day. “I’m running to you, Kylo.”

Rapturous sparks lit when you forced your lips to his, fingers webbing behind his neck while he gripped around either of your thighs and pulled you from the ground, only taking a few steps and turning before lowering the two of you down. Over his shoulder you saw the galaxy reflected into the crimson glaze of the piano, two concurrent stars crossing a perpendicular path until they left view. Below you came the presence of his hardening cock, readying quickly to take you again.

“You want this,” Kylo said, head angling into your sternum, lips pressing into the pliant tissue of your chest, hands set firm at either of your hips while he shifted below you to center himself at your entrance.

“I want _you_ , Kylo—” anguish fled down your face and onto his shoulder as only you knew how hopeless the wish was “—more than anything.”

A mess was forming in your urgent future, knowing that telling him the truth now would only make it harder to convince him of the opposite. But he had to know, even if just for a few hours; he needed to know how much you cared for him. The last thing you would do for him was make him aware of how truly complete he made you, how there was nothing for you to forgive him for, how the only thing you would ever ask of him again would be to hold you together while you tore yourself apart in his arms. Kylo Ren would know, or at the very least _feel_ , how tragically you’d fallen for him.

A soft, agonizing grunt fell into your hair while you hungered for him to fill you, to feel him under you while you showered him in the affection you were instructed to abandon. With ease, fluids slipping freely down your thighs, he lowered you onto him. After a month of nothing, a wasted month of misplaced fury, you gave in to the song your body sang for him, skin igniting with hot goosebumps as your walls pulsed around him, your position allowing him to slide in to his base, your calves framing his thighs on the leather bench.

“Stars, you always feel so good,” you breathed, biting at his shoulder. “You’re perfect.”

He hummed, the low murmur sounding into your breast, full lips working towards your nipple. His hands lifted you, then set you down, then lifted again; he continued in this pattern, paced and deep, until you followed in his direction, moving on top of him. The feeling of your pussy pulling him in every time you slid away created a sense of euphoria, the way it felt to move for him at your own will. If it wasn’t purposeful, he was, in a way, making up for his actions back on Starkiller. It was disheartening, knowing on some level you’d stirred a guilt in him that wasn’t his to bear. Now, though, it resided wholly and entirely on your shoulders, your face burning beneath the evidence of your inevitable future.

His tongue laved over your nipple, his other hand working your free breast while he kneaded into it, swiping the peaked flesh with his thumb. The tip of his nose nuzzled into you, your skin shuddering while he encircled the bud, the friction rippling down to your core, cunt clenching around him while you continued to bounce to his set rhythm. His teeth teased you, your own biting back into him and causing him to release the sensitive flesh, his mouth instead suckling onto you.

“Every part of you,” you moaned, forearms hugging his head into your chest, chin resting at his crown while you he thrust upward and you slid down on him, hiccuped breaths leaving both of you, “I need it more than anything, _fuck_ ,” he grunted and just as quickly the Force was twisting around your swollen clit, his mouth trailing back up your neck. “More than anything, Kylo, I need you.”

Skin smacking together, breaths climbing and coiling into torrents of pleasure, skin burning against one another with an unfounded degree of heat and want – you pulled his face into yours, feeling the echoes of his chaotic release reverberate into your throat, the sound pushing you into your own. You’d never felt closer to him, never needed him more than in this moment, and through your climax you heard the words chorus in your head.

Opening your eyes, holding him while he came down, your fingers pushed sweat-stuck hair from his forehead while the Force dissipated, his cock pulsing in place beneath you. Above his head came another two stars, this time chasing after one another with a magnetism unknown to you, and you fought pointlessly against the unbidden tears which fell in sequence with the stars. Fingers twisting into his heated nape, you struggled to deny the only words ringing in the forefront of your mind, the deep caramel melting in his irises doing nothing to quell them.

_I love you_ , you wanted to say. _I love you and I never want to leave here, I never want to hurt you._ Instead, though, you collapsed into him, back cresting with the evidence of your internal agony. If it were any other person than you, if it were any other set of circumstances, the act wouldn’t be selfish. That person could freely tell him these things and verbalize his worthiness. But it was you, and you had the responsibility of protecting an additional soul that didn’t deserve the fatality Snoke had threatened.

“ _Ky_ ,” you whined, the nickname muffled into his bare skin.

He was a statue as you cried against him, obvious confusion tensing his muscles for a few minutes. With a rigid gentleness he pulled you from him, his arms shifting your legs until he could set one forearm beneath both of your knees and the other across your shoulders blades before he stood from the bench and turned toward the hallway. Puffy, pain-blinded eyes could barely see his path, but when you heard the room get smaller as he stood between your door and his, you knew he was taking you into his bed.

The cold sheets burned in contrast to your stifling skin, the comforter coming to cover you to your shoulders. He didn’t join you, though, and when you realized this you looked to find him standing beside you, regarding you with an indiscernible emotion, brows slightly knit while he considered you, hesitation heavy in his eyes.

“More than anything?” It was more a question for himself than you, introspection clear in his far away gaze.

You nodded your head once, his focus returning, looking startled by the small notion of reassurance, like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it. His throat bobbed and he went to turn, but your hand jolted for his, the touch eliciting the tensing of his jaw. Looking down at the connection, you saw an obvious discomfort come over him, though he kept the tips of his fingers at yours while he spoke.

“Sleep—” he looked back to your eyes after what had to have been twenty seconds “—the day isn’t done.”

His fingers twisted into a fist when he left yours. Watching you, he pulled what you could only assume was another undershirt from a drawer, keeping his eyes on yours until the door separated you from him. Shuffled movements snuck past the protected door, listening as he redressed out of sight. Before you heard the _hiss_ of the elevator, you gave into the exhaustion which wrought over your body and brain, falling into a hard sleep. The best one you’d had since lying with him.

* * *

“Forgive me, I feel it again. The pull to the light.”

Grogginess swallowed you whole, body reluctant to come out of sleep even as it heard the interrupting words. It was Kylo, though you couldn’t see him, his voice modulated, the helmet obvious in the early light of the simulated sun.

“Kylo?” Fingers pressed into your eyes, scrubbing away the remnants of your earlier tears.

“Supreme Leader senses it,” he continued.

The mention of Snoke stunned your heart, back shooting up and dizzying you in the soft bed. You went to call out for him again, but you needed to hear what he was saying, letting his words sink into you as you regarded they could be the last you’d hear before hurting him.

“Show me again the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way,” he paused, conflict clear even in the far away vocoder. “Show me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started.”

“Grandfather?”

Before you got the chance to unpack the curious phrasing, to question the lineage he’d never mentioned, he came from a room you hadn’t noticed before, the door hissing shut and locked behind him. He was outfitted in all his layers again, further away from you beneath his clothing.

Without regarding you, not even sparing a glance, he spoke. “Get dressed, the Command Shuttle is leaving in two minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have emerged from the third semester of nursing school with an A and eight days of break! I'm excited for the coming chapters of this story. Please tell me your thoughts/feelings/reactions/criticisms! I love all of it and I look forward to reading them every day.
> 
> This is the chapter that pushed the word count over 100,000! That is absolutely insane. I never thought we'd be here, but I am insanely grateful that we are.
> 
> Stay safe, don't covet, know your worth.
> 
> \- ST


	21. A Physical Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's decided: today is the worst day to have ever existed, and it just won't end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Dubcon, Ruined orgasm, Torture, Body Mod, Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

Stark was the contrast from this trip on the Command Shuttle from the earlier one; there was a silent alarm coursing between all that remained boarded, those who were instructed to stay put and keep the ship running so a swift escape could be made if circumstances changed. Four stormtroopers and a stand-in pilot remained with you, two men standing guard inside, two stationed at the ramp out of sight, the pilot pressing a code of buttons you didn’t have the knowledge to care about.

Sounds of battle tore into the ship, the harsh knowledge that destruction was ripping through whatever planet you were on making your chest tighter with each unknown _boom_ or _crash_. The surroundings were new, though, too much foliage and scenery visible through the crimson transparisteel to be mistaken as Jakku. Taking into consideration the wooziness you’d experienced per seeing this morning’s escapades, saliva vacating your mouth at the memory of the man painted in orange fatality, you figured it would be a smarter decision to stay strapped in. This kept you from seeing the demolition ringing around you, but through the fury pigment of the windshield you saw the raw reality of crashing structures and fleeing crowds. With every scream, not knowing if they were those of the enemy – though that word meant little, if anything, at this point, your greatest foe being your very own Supreme Leader – or not, you shuddered into yourself, eyes kept strictly on your shoes while you attempted to tune it all out.

As war raged on you found yourself, once again, with too much time. Too much solitude. There was barely an effort made to keep yourself from thinking of Kylo, conflicted further with each digital reminder that time was passing too quickly. The nap you’d been woken from twenty minutes ago felt like a waste of the valuable resource. Though you knew he would have left no matter if you’d rested or not, you still felt guilty in taking a moment of peace; today was your last day with him and Snoke’s grip frayed your nerves further with each second, turmoil pooling into frigid pits while you tried to make every moment count.

While Kylo was away you found yourself watching your radar, the tip of your right index finger caressing the delicate face, tracing gently over his whereabouts. In the face of losing him you’d taken a new liking to the tech, feeling an interconnectedness even when you couldn’t see him. In some way it was a reminder that you still had around fifteen hours before you’d lose him, a tangible symbol of your dwindling hope, each patterned flash between the hours and seconds working to dim your outlook.

Far away a cascade of blaster firings sounded, tongue locking between your teeth as you strayed from imagining the lives involved. Even surrounded by catastrophe one thought was coarse in its existence as you analyzed every interaction you’d shared with Kylo this morning; after he’d told you to get dressed and ready to go, you expected, however naïvely, that he’d wait for you to gather yourself. A part of you withered when you heard the elevator leave not a second after you’d crawled out from his covers. You knew he was unaware of how crippling time was right now, but the mindless act sunk into your bones, a sucker punch to your already fracturing heart.

“So you actually saw the escape?” One of the stormtroopers spoke, regarding the one opposite him. They had been speaking for a while but only now did their conversation interest you.

“Yeah.” the second white-armored guard shifted in his stance. Though you could only see his boots you knew that this gave him pride. “One second I was just manning my station and then this TIE goes off the rails, pulling on its docking chain like I’d never seen.

“And it’s been confirmed that Ren’s prisoner was the one who stole it?”

“Ha, _yeah_ , but the real story is how he even got the chance.”

Another crash came, neither of them bothered by the flood of screams that followed it. “Wait, I think I heard something about this before we left for Takodana. It was a pilot right? The traitor?”

“No, man. It was one of _us_. A soldier. A _brother_. Sick isn’t it?”

“But if the traitor was one of our own… how’d they escape if neither knew how to pilot a TIE?”

“Well _obviously_ one of them did or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?” The one being questioned was growing tired of it.

There was a short pause between the two, neither knowing whether to bother to continue the discussion. An influx of commotion came into hearing distance; grunts, explosions, and weaponry all creating a disjunct melody of mayhem while you remained the only passenger among the four to notice the rising urgency growing closer with each second.

“Yeah, well,” the first said, “at least we’re not in the mess, right? Better to man the ship than to be the one defending it?”

The second soldier was no longer enjoying the other’s company, tone becoming increasingly curt. “The Captain assigned me to Ren’s detail six weeks ago. Out of nowhere. To say I’d rather get shot at out there than ever have to babysit this ship again would be an understatement.”

“Hey! It’s not that-,”

The first soldier’s recoil was barred when familiar footfalls came into earshot, heavy boots falling against the thick metal of the on-ramp stealing his words and replacing them with an interrupting chaos. For the first time since watching him leave the ship you looked up from the floor, fully anticipating his fists to be in some entanglement of rage or stress. But they weren’t. Actually, his fists were nowhere to be found, his hands too busy holding the limp body of a tatter-wearing stranger. He stood at the threshold and regarded the pilot, your only focus keeping steady at the way his gloved fingers bit into her knee, an unfounded pang of hurt skipping into your pulse as you remembered he’d held you just the same only hours prior.

“Set course for Starkiller. Instruct complete retraction to all active units. We’re done here.” Kylo was all business; cold, corporate words to match his tone before he turned toward you.

This was something you’d never planned on; seeing him with another woman, no matter how rugged and grimy she appeared, brought conflicting emotions. On one hand your first inclination was to hate her, to assume she was the enemy and that she deserved what was coming to her, to see her in the worst light as a part of you still held a hopeless claim on her captor. The other part of your brain, arguably the more logical and caring portion, felt that same bit of ill-placed fear as you had for Dameron. The news that the prisoner had escaped had brought you a peace you shouldn’t have felt, one that would be noted as treasonous just as your fear for him had been earlier. Now, that fear refreshed itself as you caught view of the girl’s lifeless face, training taking over as you took two seconds to find her chest moving at a steady pace. She was breathing. She was alive in his arms, lips parted as unconsciousness draped over her.

The engines roared beneath your feet, pitching upwards as the final crowd of passengers flooded in behind your Commander, all of them racing to strap into the chairs lining the walls, the ramp ascending and sealing the ship before it latched with a _click_. Kylo made no such move, his stance staying put and steady as the ship rocketed into the bright sky, the Force keeping him upright during the propulsion. He stood analyzing you as you were him, his stare evident and concentrated through the helmet, the cowl adding another layer of mystique to his already intimidating appearance. Your attention had barely left the girl, an obvious effort to not feel the jealousy you knew he would sense burning beneath your skin while he observed you.

For some reason her presence irked you, dug claws into your restraint as you fought to control your emotions. It’s not like it would matter if she was anyone important to him anyway; in a few hours you wouldn’t be, so what purpose was there in hating her? What point was there to feeling anything for him anymore if it would all be worth less than nothing by the end of the day? There was none. No point or purpose to allow this stranger any influence over you. Although the longer you stared at her, examined her through the eyes of a person and not a nurse, you lost more and more resolve towards letting her presence get to you.

A madness rose just behind your eyes, not yet seeping into your demeanor but residing just enough to keep you from caring too much about her. It was not like you to wish harm on someone, and you weren’t entirely, but, in comparing your regard towards her to that which you had for Dameron, you found yourself simmering in a state of envy. Kylo had once called you a nobody, no matter how rooted in anger it had been, but for him to treat this person, this _nobody_ , with the gentleness he’d only shared with you this morning? You wanted to scream, wanted to rip into him every ounce of petty rage the sight was causing you.

“Officer,” Kylo said, head tilting just enough to clue you in to the warning the notion was.

The Command Shuttle left the blue atmosphere and was once more swallowed by the black of space, stars zooming past as you finally looked into his visor. Under his stare you felt your shoulders relax, let yourself breathe as you caught onto the fact that you’d been displacing your anger on the innocent girl. What you felt while looking at her was jealousy, you couldn’t dismiss that fact, but while peering into his visor, feeling his eyes so intently on yours while he kept your gaze, you realized you only felt it because of the truth that awaited you in the pressing future.

You would never be held by him in such a way after today. Never again would you feel his arms around you. This envy was rooted in the fact that you _had been_ her, but you would soon never have the chance. And in meeting him through the mask you dissolved the feeling. What a waste of the remaining time you had with him to care about someone so foreign and superficial to your life. He was here now, even if just to set eyes on, and you were determined to keep him from observing your spiraling any further before you had to drown him in it. Neither of you deserved to feel time’s bludgeoning presence, but you settled on bearing its weight yourself, sparing him until the final moment.

“Master,” you said back, head falling against the durasteel while you allowed one full sweep over his impossible frame, careful that no hidden heads were looking your way before permitting the faintest quirk of your lips. The gesture was for him, hoping he’d be thrown off the trail of your uproar of emotions even in the slightest way.

When the docking bay came into view, the floor growing closer as the ship settled into its landing, you found it difficult not to think about how different you’d felt when leaving here this morning. After receiving the alert for the departure you’d hurriedly gotten dressed while dreading coming into contact with Kylo again, settling on the fact that it would be easier to lose your trial than to live a life with him. Another twinge of regret wrapped your lungs in jagged constraints when thinking about the time you’d wasted, though you couldn’t have known then. There was so much misery twisted into you, anger you thought belonged to your Commander, rage you’d learned had nothing to do with him.

As the engines settled and the ramp descended once more, you watched distantly as blurry white figures moved about and away from the ship. In their vacating you knew that time was wearing on, felt it wrap tighter around your heart while you listened to the unmistakable footsteps of your Master wander off into the distance. Clasping your palm around your watch you kept yourself from checking, knowing it would only frighten you in its ever-passing reality. Time had become an overwhelming factor in your knowing Kylo; it was now a catalyst to both your introduction and your severance. However devastating, you still didn’t wish to take any of it back.

After undoing your safety harness and standing from your seat you went to exit the ship, your phone buzzing at your hip just as you stood centered under the threshold. It was Mason. Another reason for the current glut of guilt accumulating in your stomach. With an anchored lip, teeth threatening to draw blood, you accepted the call and all that it entailed, half-thankful for another opportunity to delay Snoke’s task.

“Mason, look, earlier… I wasn’t. I hadn’t. I just got back from—” slowing down and taking a breath, you searched for the right phrasing that would reveal just enough to quell his impending interrogation “—I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I haven’t been having the best day. Work stuff, you know.”

“I do know, young officer.”

Frozen in place, blood turning to ice, your eyes fell from focus and you stumbled left towards the support of the hatch’s frame. The slithered, malicious tone was ingrained into your soul, its sound now too familiar and fatal to be mistaken. Snoke sounded far away, voice too echoed for him to be holding whatever contact device he was using. Panic planted new thorns in your stomach at the realization that Snoke was calling from Mason’s phone.

“If he’s already dead you have nothing to bargain.”

A low roll of what sounded like tainted amusement rattled through the electronic frequency. “Don’t worry, here he is now.” A muffled shriek sent your hand away from your ear, agony ripping through Mason, his face vivid in memory of the first time you’d heard him like this.

“I haven’t gone against you!” Spit sprayed as you spoke through gnashed teeth, Mason’s cries turning into distant groans. “Let him go or the offer-,”

“The _offer_ isn’t yours to bargain, stupid girl.”

“The _stupid girl_ found a loophole in your plan, didn’t she?”

Another stream of cries filtered through the phone, hand clasping around the hard edges of the threshold. “For some reason I believed you held this physician to a higher esteem,” Mason pleaded your name in a thrashing tumble of suffering, “my mistake.”

Mason only grew louder as Snoke paused to let you hear him, to let you listen to your own doing. You knew what Snoke wanted and how to make him stop, your eyes closing in defeat while you swallowed what remained of your resolve.

“Tell me what you want, just stop hurting him.” Life left your voice, failure and shame prickling into your eyes.

“The only thing that’s changed is the timetable I offered. Your little stunt has worked against you.”

“When? How much time do I have?” A stray tear fled salty over your tongue, teeth trapping your quivering lip.

“You have exactly sixty minutes to keep your end of the deal. Consequently, that’s the same time your friend will cease to exist should you fail.” There was a cruel amount of pleasure and righteousness coiled into the mention of your failure.

“I don’t know where he is, and I doubt he wants to be interrupted with whatever he’s doing.” The stranger’s face passed momentarily through your mind, imagining she had the same fate as the prisoner.

“For your friend’s sake, as you’ve offered no notion that you care for your own life, I suggest you find him.”

“You’re sick, you know that right? Doing this? Hurting him this way?” Your watch read a quarter till nine, steps leading you mindlessly down the ramp and into the bustling Elite center.

“Maybe. Though, I’m not the one hurting him, am I?”

Hauntingly low laughter overlapped with your frustrated growl, feet stomping in no particular direction as you scanned the room. “Fifty-nine minutes now, officer. I’ll be expecting your call, though I am sure I will know when you have completed your task.”

The call ended before you had the chance to scream at him, though it would’ve attracted more attention than you wanted right now. Shoving your phone back into your front pocket, the seams nearly busting at the force, you threaded both your hands into your hair, clutching at your scalp as you walked in circles in an aimless attempt to find Kylo, not remembering which direction he’d gone when he’d left the ship.

The only place it made sense for him to be would be in an interrogation room, but you didn’t know where those were on Starkiller. Anxiety rippled in hot waves down your spine, pulse quickening as you looked down to find you’d spent two minutes pacing about in indiscriminate paths.

Realization hit you. “Okay, I deserve to die for being this fucking stupid!” Holding your left wrist up you watched the radar grow and shrink in distance, making a few confusing laps until you found the direction which indicated you were heading in his direction. The watch had only been a hindrance until today, and you were finally using the advantage it offered.

Racing past the faceless soldiers, looking side to side as they observed you with confusion, you kept focus on the red radar, feet moving faster the closer you moved towards him, not paying attention to where your legs were leading you. A few stormtroopers tried to chastise you, yelling for your attention as you ran past them. But you could hardly hear them over your fumbling thoughts, trying to piece together a believable performance to try and convince Kylo you wanted to quit.

Every phrase that came to mind met you with a crippling sense of fraudulence. Your time with him this morning, the purposeful portion you’d taken to be with him before it was too late, was now backfiring. How could he believe something that would so blatantly sound like a lie? There could be no conviction when there was no truth to prove in the first place. Why had you done this? Even if he did believe you, you’d cause more pain than you intended just by allowing him to come so close to your heart, to see in your eyes and hear in your praises how much he meant to you.

He knew the real truth, felt it as your tears streaked down his back, though now you felt exceedingly grateful you hadn’t verbalized the depth of it. In all of this you had to remind yourself that you weren’t the villain, that you were protecting your friend and saving your career, but it was impossible to see it that way when guilt tugged at each stride. With each pace you questioned your speed, conflict obvious in understanding you were on a timer while also acknowledging you were running headfirst into heartbreak, catalyzing the inevitable with each new hallway you turned down.

This would be the worst thing you’d ever do, no matter if you died today or next week or in a hundred years. To hurt another person – chest tight when remembering you’d so often questioned Kylo’s humanity in the beginning – so entirely was in complete opposition with who you had become; your position was to heal him and provide a sense of safety to aid in that process. Now, as you started down a heavily populated hall with display screens mounted above each doorway, you found yourself running to do the exact opposite, racing to harm him and steal the security he’d entrusted you to offer.

Two stormtroopers stood guard at one of the doors to your right, blasters at the ready while their voices became clearer with each distance-stealing stride.

“Dude, I’m just saying it’s not _that_ bad being assigned to Ren’s detail. Actually, I’m glad the other guy got booted, he seemed… off to me. Like he didn’t-,”

“Okay! I get it! I don’t want to hear about-,”

The two men stopped talking when your hands met your knees while you fought to catch your breath, sloppily checking your watch and finding you had fifty minutes before the clock ran out. Swallowing, gulping for air, you pleaded with them in harsh, simplified requests.

“Mas- Commander. Ren. Where. Now. Tell me.”

Coming up from your knees and wiping your forehead you saw them look at each other, considering you in the current state of chaos in which you resided. Staring between them and your watch, you grew impatient.

“Seriously. I need to speak with him. _Now_!” Desperation cracked your voice, heart torn between saving Mason or sparing Kylo, each holding an equal portion of it.

The first one, the talkative one, began to speak, his automated voice fading just as quickly as it had come before both of their heads turned to their lefts. They quickly stood to a higher degree of attention, the action bringing you a heady sense of déjà vu from graduation. Solace and suffering struck you as your pounding head stopped to listen for the approaching footsteps, contradiction dizzying you before you turned to face him.

He was still masked but the cowl was resting in a collection over his shoulders, hands relaxed at his sides as he stepped closer. You didn’t know what to say. Nothing came to mind as you stared pleadingly into his visor, wishing that somehow he could hear your thoughts instead of just feel your nerves.

“I need to-,”

“Speak with me. I heard.” His words were clipped, the stress of the day sinking into his tone.

“Okay, well I have to-,”

“You’ll have to wait, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The door between the soldiers hissed open before Kylo stepped to enter into the room, your heart heightening to an unimaginable pace as indecision and time stabbed into your lungs. A flash of time, a flicker of Mason’s face, an echo of his screams – all these things amplified in your mind in a split second. This was it. It was now or never. No more waiting, no more delays. Despite every effort, you had to accept the truth: Mason would die if you failed Snoke, but Kylo would live regardless.

“I quit.” Quick, short, and loud was the statement, tight fists balling at your hips while your eyes shut in defense.

The hall lulled in its buzz, voices hesitating as you felt the eyes of countless strangers fall on every part of you. To match their vacant voices was the sudden disappearance of any footsteps. In your purposeful blindness, you knew the words had stopped Kylo in his path.

Swallowing, taking a slow, superficial breath, you looked at him. His body was half turned toward you now, fingers flexing apart and then winding together. With every word you began to drive the knife deeper into his soul. The blade was double edged, though. “I ha… I have to quit. I’m quitting.”

The onlookers went back to their business after five silent seconds, their own worlds still spinning no matter if yours was soon to be thrown off its axis. Kylo turned so his whole body faced you now, slow, harrowing steps carrying him closer. The helmet at his shoulders was an eternal hindrance. Even when his face was visible you struggled to get a sense of what he was feeling. But you could only assume, could only anticipate, there was a new foundation of confusion or doubt moving the tiny muscles of his face.

“Officer, we will discuss your _employment_ later. For now I advise you to return to your residence.”

“There is no later. I ha…” No matter how many times you attempted to say the three words, the second would always falter before completion. “I’m done. I’m quitting.” Your eyes hit the floor, reflection mocking you in your pitiful attempt towards conviction. “I quit.”

Kylo’s vocoder crackled out a huff of exasperation. His head turned to address the two men standing guard at the door, a _hiss_ sounding as it latched shut again. “Remain here until I return. Update me if the Scavenger’s status changes.” His visor returned to you, staring for a moment too long before he walked past you with the silent expectation that you were to follow.

Passing down two more hallways, taking one left turn and a right, you grew in terror with every stride, noting the diminishing time frame at your wrist every ten seconds. There were far less people in the first hall, and none in the second. A door came into view, its frame fortified and industrial, the display screen above it turned off – or dead, as the surroundings appeared to be that of a decommissioned sector. With a harsher than normal sound, it slid to the left to allow entry, Kylo stopping just before he entered to allow you past him. He was analyzing you, undoubtedly, and you coveted his ability to keep his intentions hidden so well.

Soft, cautious steps filled the quiet of the dank room, the overhead light flickering when it came to life, a fluorescent buzz adding to the symphony of silence. In the center was the same apparatus that Dameron had been positioned on, this one much less agile looking, its fixtures outdated and dust-covered. Neglect was evident in the way the entrance shrieked shut at your back. With elbows bent and fingers locking together just below your ribs, you kept your face from him, keeping a watch on the time. You needed to do this, but how?

Kylo was a predator when he needed to be; watching he prey from a distance, keeping his steps light and thoughtful, getting just close enough so you weren’t entirely sure how near he was behind you. Though, currently, you felt more like the hunter; alone with him you waited to strike on an unsuspecting victim, not entirely planned or strategical, but nevertheless predacious.

He wasn’t talking. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say the horrible things Snoke had instructed. You were at a standstill, not knowing how to move next, not wanting to move at all. But you had to, you knew this; the absence of a path that offered peace for either party was the foundation for your hesitance. When you left here, the only person to benefit would be Mason; a third party you so desperately regretted roping into this.

His draught of words charged your nerves; he didn’t know what he was waiting to hear, he couldn’t know – that was the fact that made this all so terrible. The pain you were feeling was the same you were meant to poison him with; it was purposeful and calculated and cruel, just like its perpetrator. But you were the messenger, and to be killed would be preferred to the latter of delivering words you knew bore the explicit and extensive intention to harm their recipient.

“I quit.” No other words would form. None that wouldn’t sting anyway, so you just kept repeating the two, hoping you’d finally accept them or find some inkling of truth in their outward expression.

“I heard you the first three times. I just don’t know why you’d say it at all.”

He was asking for the falsehoods you were avoiding speaking, simultaneously stalling them and trying to gather the will to say them. This would hurt him no matter what. Time would only run out and harm both of the people you loved if you didn’t do this. Sparing one for the other felt hopeless. It was.

“I hate you.” Three flat syllables fell in pattern, their existence stoic and empty.

A static cloud of incredulous amusement left him. “No you don’t.”

Turning in sloth, you leveled your features, bluffed stoicism crowding your eyes in hopes it’d form your own mask. Unblinkingly you stared into his visor, trying not to bite at your cheek, hands coming down to relax at your sides. “Why wouldn’t I? I have every reason and right to.”

Leather squeaked out of sight; it appeared your façade was working. “Maybe you should. You don’t, though. You don’t even want to.”

“You can’t tell me what I feel. I hate you.” Each repetition was an attempt toward belief.

“Fine,” Kylo said, challenge evident in his tone while he took a step forward, your ankles catching on the bottom of the angled table. “The least you could do is try and prove it, as it is nowhere to be found in either your words or your presence.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.” There was an arsenal you could draw from, weaponized sentences that would floor him, that you knew could convince him. All of it had been true, or remains true, but you didn’t want to use any of it. He didn’t deserve this at all. It was excruciatingly unfair.

“You aren’t ignorant to the fact I can feel everything you do. Why are you lying to me?” He was growing increasingly frustrated.

“What would I gain from lying to you, Kylo?” Only the life of your closest friend, but that’s all. “Have you considered I’m just now telling you the full truth?”

“I don’t consider absurdity,” your name gritted through the vocoder.

“What is so absurd about me hating you?” Shifting barely, you grappled for the wrist restraints for support, steadying yourself, looking up to him through two masks, only one hidden. “You’ve only ever hurt me. The only nice thing you’ve ever done for me is have that termination notice signed and ready to go.” Each word was a dagger to your own heart, no matter if he was convinced yet.

A pointed indication that your coaxing was working, however ashamedly, was obvious in his statuesque stature. Kylo was crowding you, your chin grazing his chest with each brusque breath he took. This was torture; this was true agony, wrathful and writhing as it thrashed against your soul.

Everything in you was adamant in its desire for him to keep his face hidden; the last thing you wanted was to see his expression right now, to watch all you’d built with him tear down in seconds.

“I signed that as a requisite to your assignment. Should it have been necessary it would’ve been available for your immediate termination.”

“My immediate _termination_ ,” you recoiled, taking in stride his answers to avoid hurting him. Angering him was an easier route. “Ever since the _beginning_ you’ve doubted me, I swear.”

“It’s never been necessary!” He was beginning to believe you. In your chest you felt your heart splinter.

He took another step forward, bumping you back onto the table, feet catching on the ledge as two metal restraints came over your ankles, eyes wide and flat while you drowned in the immensity of his presence.

“What? Are you gonna hurt me again? Strap me in and torture me because I don’t want to be here anymore? That will only make me hate you more, Kylo.” You swallowed, locking your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your chin from betraying your true feelings.

“You don’t hate me!”

“Yes I do!”

In a storm of black, his arms flung upward and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it so it crashed with a riot of fury against the wall, a dent no doubt left in its wake. Two gloved hands came warm and quick over your cheeks, pulling you into his face and drawing you to his lips. There was need obvious in his attack, his fingers quite literally locking you to him. He caught you off guard, your mouth moaning with his same fervor in the first half second of connection. But you couldn’t do this, allowing it would only cause him more pain.

“Kylo, _no_ ,” your hands twisted bruises into his wrists while you tried to pull him away, trying and failing to ignore the etherealness his touch inspired. “We can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?” His body pressed into yours, the angle of the table allowing you to feel his weight, relish in his size. He wasn’t listening to your direction, completely lost to his own agenda to convince you of what you already knew.

“Because I don’t want to.” He felt so good, home and comfort blatant in the effort it took to pull away.

“Really?” One of his hands clutched into your hair while the other raced to lift your skirt, dipping into your panties and pushing two fingers into your slit with ease. “You’re _lying_!” He growled, his hand’s presence forcing another moan, pleasure twisted in your core when an accidental buck dragged his fingers closer to your entrance.

“You disgust me!” Insults were your next line of defense, petty and pointless as they were.

Kylo grunted, the seams of his gloves teasing your core. “I disgust you, huh?” The thick digits hooked into you, a shudder of breath coming with their arrival. “Is it how I can make you cum harder than anyone you’ve ever been with?” The firm pad of his thumb found your clit, raised and ready, and he began winding into it, bolts of seething joy igniting as he brushed over it repeatedly. “Disgusting how you’ve never wanted anything more than this—” his tongue slid onto yours, nose panting gusts of lust onto your cheek while his fingers began pumping into you –” how you _need_ it? Those were your words right? Earlier?”

He wasn’t fighting fair, and you supposed you weren’t either, but you were the one with the hidden agenda. Kylo was bearing it all while you worked to conceal the pain it brought you to tell him these things, the way every second brought you closer to saying the words you knew would tear through him just as they had done to you.

“You’re so fu- _full_ of yourself—” your head glittered while you sunk into the grip of the climax you felt coming, teeth clamping together and blocking his tongue from yours. “How would you even know if you were the best I’ve had? Take a look in my head, I’m begging you to find you’re wrong!” It was a way of pleading for him to go digging so he could see Snoke, half hoping he could at all when you remembered Snoke’s act of torture when you first stepped before him.

Kylo had tunnel vision, lips pressing into your jaw when he couldn’t lust after your tongue, fingers working you faster, harder, knuckles skating in and out with a delicious friction. Release stuck in your throat and burgeoned in your belly, an unmistakable glow festering into fruition.

“Why should I waste my time when all I’d find is how you think endlessly about every encounter we’ve shared?” His cockiness almost brought a smile to your face, and you were sure he could feel that strike of glee that encouraged it. “You’re going to cum for me like the slut you are—” it was chaotic, the spiral of pleasure he was twisting into you, your nerves shining for him with every purposeful movement of his hand “—and then you’re going to go to your residence and _wait_ for me—” a falter of reluctant, stifled groans fell unbidden from your agape mouth “—so when I get there I can give you the time needed to drill into you—” he sucked at your collar bone, canines biting into the taut skin and your back arched into him “—that I know you, I _feel_ you, and you’re an awful. Fucking. Liar!”

Holding on by the last thread of resolve, you gasped and gulped. “You ruined my life.” He wasn’t going to allow you to do this without hurting him. “You nearly killed my friend. You _took_ my free will.” All of this was forced through a tight jaw, your hands prying him from your neck so you could stare into him with the power you needed to strike him down.

Looking deep into his eyes, savagery etched into his visage, you brought his face closer so his nose nearly touched yours. Sweat was dripping down your forehead, slipping beneath your thighs on the now slick metal, your throat swallowing back spit while you sharpened the daggers you were about to send through him. Maybe not entirely conscious of it, his hand slowed, your release faltering and diminishing while you stared through him.

With the flattest possible expression, focus fuzzing purposely as to not see the damage you were about to cause, you held him entirely with just your eyes. There was something you couldn’t place just below the surface, its presence aching and sharp while you watched his lips attempt to mimic the stoicism of your own. Nearly imperceptibly, his chin was quaking; unsure if it was from a stressed jaw or from that sharp emotion stabbing into you, your blurred vision caught the red face of your watch in its periphery. Time was draining. This was it.

“Kylo,” you began, your other hand reaching to clasp around his forearm, knowing hearing his name would make the cut deeper. Permanent. “There is nothing you can do, or say, or force that will ever change the fact that I hate your very existence.” You swallowed, hoping your fear felt more like rage. “Everything you do – killing innocents, hurting the people I love, stealing my free will – and everything you are is a wretched scar on my life.”

Every single sentence went right through his back and stabbed through to your heart. It was miraculous, yet disturbing, how your voice had fallen into winter so easily. Guilt broke past the levy of your soul, heart turning to ash while you observed every bit of light fade from his eyes. “I said earlier I wouldn’t forgive you. _That_ was the lie. I can’t.” Maybe the tears forming would be masked by the sweat he’d inspired.

The next words would be the harshest, the conclusion to everything. He’d called you on it earlier, but now it would be agonizingly true: you were lying to him. “Ever since you came into my life, every day I have wished, hoped, _begged_ that I never met you. Pleaded that the infamous Kylo Ren was a stranger, and I suppose I partially got what I wanted. You have never been more of a stranger than right now.” Another break before your final statement shattered all you’d come to know for the past three months. This would be the act to secure Mason’s life.

Dropping your hands from his neck and forearm, he remained in place, his own hand having left you completely now, his eyes nearing the vacancy of his touch. With a whisper, you completed your task. “You are an irredeemable bastard, Commander Ren, and I want nothing more than to forget you exist.”

Hollow were the eyes which mirrored each other, emptiness enveloping him just as it had you. A transaction of turmoil. An exchange of hearts as Kylo’s had stopped while Mason’s would beat on. Through two razed pupils you felt his soul shrink into him, saw the man you loved shatter into dust.

Nothingness equipped him with a lifeless gaze, a flat voice, and a crushing shadow of decimation. “I trusted you.”

And to tie it all up with a gnarled, muddied, tattered bow. “I never asked you to.”

The walls you’d just laid foundation for were audible in their construction, flagrant over his face as he backed away, eyes proximal in the physical sense yet entirely distant in their expression. You didn’t know what to do, unsure if to leave him here or to wait for him to leave first. Venom burned at the ashes in your chest, starving you of air and shattering your temporary mask with each dead measure of time.

Pushing up from the metal, you looked down to your ankles, still bound to the table as you were in shame. There were no words you could think to say, nothing you could do to remedy this level of severity. In the second you’d stolen to look down, Kylo Ren’s eyes had returned to that of the person you’d met the time he’d taken your will. It chilled you, and while watching him, forgetting to move, you found you no longer could.

All at once your head crashed back into the metal, your arms flew outward, and every restraint – a pummel of metal over your forehead, a bite into your wrists, and a reinforcing clobber over your ankles – latched with a shroud of metallic shrieks. Along with the physical detention, a familiar, compressing weight came to reside over your chest, every breath you took barely life sustaining.

“You can leave here. You can quit—” stalking steps approached, eyes peering around to find him in your periphery “—but you will never forget me.” Kylo Ren loomed over you now, death salient in his eyes. “I won’t allow it.”

The white stone of his face drowned in a haze of brilliant red, the familiar frequency stunning your ears and stabbing your skin with the rippling rage its presence promised. Parted lips permitted a tired wince, desolate eyes staring into your own, skipping down your chest, and landing on a region unknown to you.

“Let this serve as a physical reminder of all you’ve vocalized here.”

Blinded in silent fury, his visage remained vacant. Out of sight, a gloved hand smoothed your skirt onto your abdomen, an emblazoned heat quickly replacing it with burning wrath. Bile rose in your throat, your eyes clasping shut in defense; no matter if you couldn’t see, the darkness offered by lidded eyes worked to take you from reality, knowing there was nothing you could do or say or scream that would convince the sadistic stranger to spare you.

Accepting fate, you shredded your teeth into your lips, staggering broken wails through a muting muzzle as the plasma blade made first contact with the skin of your upper left thigh. Sweat beaded as more muted shrieks shattered in your throat, the weapon passing down once and lifting. In the time it was away from your skin, not ripping into you with the deflected pain of its brandisher, you took in a series of deep breaths and lifted your lids. The Kylo you loved was nowhere to be found, and you knew and accepted that he never would be again, watching him concentrate with a creased brow just as the plasma bit another line, seemingly perpendicular to the first. There was no reaction to your hummed howls, still not allowing yourself to scream your pain into existence, not ready to accept why when his face peered back up to yours.

The absence of the chrome-slat helmet disadvantaged him in no way; the devoid person who had earlier removed it had formed a new mask, one fueled by the frenzy you’d fabricated from phony truths and forced rejection. Looking between your eyes, a stranded soul stared down to you as one more burning strike lit into your skin, a mirror of the second as it dragged down just slightly from its starting point.

A suggestion of a snarl bit at his upper lip as his face returned to its original state of smooth, flecked marble. The restraints unlocked and sheathed themselves back into their original hidden state, the exit opening behind his shoulder. “Leave.”

Fire pooled in your leg, chin trembling while absorbing every inclination to express the suffering that singed into you. With heaving breaths you smelled your injured flesh, nauseated and dizzy thinking about the pattern he’d etched. You didn’t want to scream at him, didn’t feel like saying anything at all, really. There was something shameful barring you from expressing any, or any _more_ , cruelty toward him, keeping you from hating him for the hurt he’d wrought.

No verbalized goodbye would ever be enough to undo what had gone on in this room. Gingerly, you stepped off from the apparatus with the unaffected leg, dragging your shoe from the ledge until it fell flat next to the other. Swallowing, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, taking one final look at the mess you’d made, shuddering away before he could see the tears stinging to life. In an effort to keep from stressing the muscle beneath the branded tissue, not taking a moment to examine it yet, you kept the injured leg tensed, hobbling into the hall and away from Kylo Ren.

When you took your final step out of the second hall he’d led you down, you hopped against the wall, finding you’d met your time frame. Ten minutes remained. A cruel thought of overachievement panged at your temple as you reached for your phone, panting through heavy, hot streams of hurt.

The line barely finished the first ring, your mouth starting a sentence only to be interrupted by the sinister slithering of Snoke’s cadence. “You’ve proven more honorable than I previously credited you for, young officer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, well. Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Mason. Where is he?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Snoke said, an obvious twisted grin in his words. “When I felt the death of your connection – which, I am truly _impressed_ at how completely eviscerated it is – I dismissed the Physician. I have no use for him if he’s dead, after all.”

The most insignificant spark of relief lit and died in the same breath. “The deal, then? My trial?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“No. _No_! You _promise_ me or i-,”

“A pleasure doing business with you, miss,” the way he swirled around your last name made you want to erase it entirely.

The line went dead, your screen went black, and your blood turned cold. With a jolt of unadulterated and uncontrolled wrath – for yourself, for Snoke, for all of it – you chucked the device into the floor. Not checking if the screen had already cracked, you stomped on it once, twice, three, four times as a collection of the screams you’d accumulated grated against your throat.

Only when you stumbled against the wall, your leg stinging against its injury, did you stop your tantrum. Maybe tantrum was the wrong word. This display of frustration had been earned and was not that of an errant child who couldn’t have her way. Though, you didn’t get what you wanted, and you knew you never could the second you stepped into that room.

With this knowledge and an unsteady gait, you stuck close to the walls while you began your venture back to your residence. With each step you shattered more, a trail of broken hopes and severed ties following in your path, a shadow of their own looming from the depths of the disheartened soul it sprung from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter in the back of my head for literal months and to release it after so long, to have it real and written, feels kind of surreal. For about a month or so I've been referring to this chapter as The Horrible Thing on my tumblr. It intimidated me to write something like this. 
> 
> My first class towards my BSN starts tomorrow. It is kind of pathetic how the only reason I'm worried about that is because I want to be able to keep writing this story. So, in light of that, I cannot promise a chapter next week. I think I speak for everyone when I say I am ready to get my head out of this angst ocean I've thrown us all in.
> 
> Alright! Be safe, stay humble, and try to find balance. Tell me your thoughts/feelings/reactions, they are my favorite thing!
> 
> \- ST


	22. CONNECTION LOST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it rains, it pours. And then the world starts to explode. So it's all just a giant mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Rape (bow out if you need to, I will include a brief summary in the end notes), graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of trauma.

Excess saline dripped in crimson creaks toward the floor, a bog forming beneath a shaking foot onto a towel. Two empty flushes laid in their respective positions, remaining diagonal to each other as they’d landed earlier. Another towel was set below your thigh as you propped it onto the bathroom counter with your knee bent over the edge, choosing to remain standing rather than chance losing the ability to crawl up from the floor if you’d sat. With every thumb-push of the syringe plunger new streaks of liquid agony soaked into the red, throbbing, raging wounds; each lick of searing solution reminding you of their harbinger, your tongue stained in acrid remembrance of the words which had fallen from it.

_I hate you_. The phrase you’d feared most had turned out to be the least insidious, its existence lighthearted in relation to the ones that came quickly after. The simple statement had catalyzed the catastrophe, its memory burning what remained of your heart, ashes now dormant and gray within your chest, each beat superficial in the way it sustained a life you no longer wanted. It was difficult to name what you were feeling, the uncertainty rooted in the fact that you were twisted in the clutch of grief and guilt while also floating in a nebula of numbness, the contradiction dissonant and dizzying.

With each haunting phrase, each sharp with a venomous bite, new collections of misery scathed into the scarring tissue, each tear acidic in its salty existence. A recoil was earned whenever recalling the wrath that inhabited Kylo Ren’s tone when he called you a liar, its mental presence ricocheting between your ears and setting your skin aflame with goosebumps, each wave of heated chills revitalizing the blistering burns as they settled into their intentional permanence.

Upon your left thigh, bright and belligerent and baleful, sitting just above the hem of your uniform, stung the evidence of Kylo Ren’s indignation. Staring down at the welts – two pointed, laser-sharp letters – shame accompanied the initial longing regard you held for the brand. You now bore the undeniable truth of your time with Kylo Ren, a raised K set in finality next to a partnering R, the pain-inked initials tied to a turmoil laden conflict you didn’t want to acknowledge. It was too pitiful, too pathetic and disgusting even in the infancy of its consideration.

At the fringes of your mind, the dark corners of consciousness you rarely visited, sprung an aching truth that thrashed against every belief you thought you’d once held. Yet, with each shiv of shaky air, every dagger of dread pitted in pain, you came closer to accepting it. Barely below the surface now, even as the injury pulsated with piercing torment, smarted in sync with the blatant beat of your heart, you could not deny the fact that you felt deserving of its detriment and relieved by its reality. As you tended to the wounds, using whatever scrapped supplies you’d accidentally brought home from the med bay, you fought to react in a way that would be appropriate to this situation.

The malice-born mark should have tinged your blood with fury. In its wake, the aura of red which bled outward from each initial should have filled your lungs with an indisputable hostility towards their maker. Right now, suffering in solitude, you were supposed to be cursing Kylo Ren, spitting his name and screaming hellfire over him as he’d singed into you. There was an overwhelming presence of heavy self-set expectation to sink into an unrivaled hatred for the creature you’d left in that room, the same who’d left less permanent proof in the past. Though, while the targeted tissue throbbed below your trembling hands as you attempted to apply an antibacterial protectant, you found it impossible to feel anything but misery for him.

The haunting image of Kylo Ren’s fleeting soul tore talons into your chest, a coughed sob echoing in your empty residence as you replayed the tangible change in his demeanor. Had light been scarce you swore you could’ve seen the shroud of darkness fog into his sclera, set his jaw flat and firm as he’d backed away from you. Swiping the salve over your wound you shuddered into yourself, time barely hindering the void tone with which he’d rescinded his trust, the abandonment in his voice contradicting the promise you’d made him the night he’d spoken protection over you.

Time ticked on, each second one of slow suffering. As you healed the outward wounds, inward ones formed fresh and raw, head pounding with pain and regret. Even that made wrought you with guilt. The whole reason you’d gone through with Snoke’s plan was to save Mason; his life had been equated to a trading card and it had been your doing. The least you could do was free him from the hell only intended for you. But, similar to the way regarded your new scars, shame took root in the acceptance that you didn’t deem the deal a fair wager.

Maybe it was just the immediacy of the situation, or maybe you were crueler than you’d once believed, but as you’d watched Kylo rip away from you, there was a silent moment where you wished you could allow yourself to embrace the selfishness that would keep him in your life. If you’d had the time to think on it, or if the ultimatum had been less dire, less fatal, in that moment you were swallowed by the fact that your choice would have been Kylo. Completely, entirely, wholly, undoubtedly, instantaneously. Mason had been a comfort for years, someone to rely on, the boy you’d founded a fictional future with. But you’d never wanted him the way you did Kylo. It was the most foreign, mortifying thought you’d ever held, but, however small, there was a part of you that would always choose Kylo. Over Mason. Over anyone.

“ _Fuck_!” Anger swelled as a flare of pain lashed under your touch while applying a saline saturated gauze. “I _hate_ this!” No one was around to hear you, but that was always when the harshest truths hit.

Steadying yourself with the counter and the door, you hobbled away from your working position, affected leg just barely grazing the ground while you made your way into the kitchen. “How did this even fucking happen? Why did it have to be _me_?” You stood away from a drawer, activating it and digging around until you found a roll of paper tape. “I left here this morning _hating_ him. Why can’t I just go back? I-,” a strangle of tears came, fingers prying uselessly to find the start. “I want to go back.” Thick and faltered, the words fell from devastated lips.

Giving up on your hands you ripped your teeth into the waxy material, spitting the torn tape from your mouth once you finally found the start tab. A rush of hysterics hit, lungs stuttering in defensive laughter. “You can probably fucking hear me, I bet! What, you saw me then, why not now? Why wouldn’t you see me like this, you fucked, disgusting, wretched, voyeuristic scum!”

Pressing down on the damp gauze, keeping it in place, you reached into the drawer once more to grab a roll of left over Kerlix. Tearing it open – again, with your teeth – you pressed it against your upper thigh and held it in place, regarding your scars covered the surface area that spanned the length of your pinky, both horizontally and vertically. Wrapping the rolled gauze continuously around your upper thigh, you couldn’t help but appreciate how precise and clean the letters were. Even brandishing a pen of pain Kylo Ren’s handwriting was beautiful, the thought bringing you a hesitant warmth with a short burst of guilt. The uproar of conflict currently battling in your soul would surely be the death of you.

Taking the last strip of tape, you secured the dressing, smoothing your left hand over it to make sure friction was minimal. While doing so, you caught sight of a flashing message scrawling across in bright red capital letters. The radar had disappeared altogether, not only vacant of the red dot indicative of Kylo’s location, but even of the faint red lines it had moved across. Waiting until the message cycled through until the beginning, you felt your lungs empty as the last letter solidified the severance from your Master.

_CONNECTION LOST_

“No. No. No no no. _Why_?” Frenzied fingers tread through sweat sodden roots, pain shooting up your leg as it bore new weight. “I didn’t ever want this! Why? Why? _Why_?” Sinking to the floor, willfully basking in the pain, you crumpled onto the tile until ice bit the backs of your calves.

Heaves of air collected and left in rushed lungfuls, choked cries reverberating through the room while the heels of your hands dammed the influx of tears. A frantic effort was made to think of anything else, a distraction sought in the face of your now official loss. Cycling through this morning you recalled conversations held by stormtroopers on the Command Shuttle, sharing news and celebrating in the fact that the Republic had been destroyed just prior to landing on Takodana. Mason had gone out of his way all those weeks ago to tell you of the mandatory rally, only for neither of you to be on Starkiller to attend it. It had to have been at least two hours since it occurred, its contents and importance still a mystery to you. A shawl of shivers fell onto heavy shoulders, that feeling of dread you’d felt this morning reminding you of how this day had begun on an off note, like it was destined for doom.

A _click_ and a _hiss_ came from behind, your heart stalling and nose sniffling. The only other person who could have access to your residence was-

“Kylo?” It was a quiet plead.

There was no response, no movement. Unease struck the hairs on the back of your neck. Looking back to your watch, the same message still running across the screen, you didn’t know what to think. The first thing that came to mind was to grovel, to take his sudden presence in stride and fulfill your wishes of selfishness. This was your opportunity to tell him everything, already knowing the excruciating truth of not doing so earlier. Him coming back gave you the chance to right all the wrong done today.

Sloppy, careless movements brought you to your knees. Seething, you remained here while the stinging diminished. “Kylo, none of it was true! You were right. I don’t hate you. I don’t. I promise, I don’t. I _can’t_.” Confessions were abundant while he evaded your senses. “Snoke. It was all Snoke. He threatened Mason, and, and I had to. Please, you have to understand!”

There was still no answer, but a hiss; it was similar to the mask’s muzzle, but not exact. The difference was strange, like your ears were playing tricks. The sound was closer than the door, still out of sight.

“Kylo, I’m so sorry! I’ll do any- ah!” No matter how tender you tried to be, attempting to stand without pain proved impossible. “I’ll do anything. But please know that I didn’t mean any of that! You aren’t irredeemable. You’re not a bastard. I never… I never want to forget you.”

“And you won’t, I promise. Though, I’d prefer you call me by _my_ name.”

Just as soon as you’d regained an upright posture, you nearly lost it. It was Robbie. He was in your residence. He was here. Robbie was here, talking, with you. At you.

“You know the one.” He came into view, armor intact other than his helmet. “Miss me?”

“How are you- how did you get-,”

“Mm, you really should be more careful, especially with belongings like this.” Robbie, wicked eyes slithering down your stature, held a black rectangle between two fingers. “You never know who might get a hold of them.”

As light glinted over the object your chest sunk in instant realization. It had been so long ago, such a minute occurrence that you hadn’t thought anything of it. All those weeks ago, only a few days after Kylo had barred your practice, you had lost the keycard he’d given you. The one that had been folded into his note was lost in an accidental run-in with a stormtrooper. Its absence had only been noticed a few hours after losing it in the cafeteria, when leaving Mason’s and having to get an emergency replacement that day.

“Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.” A hobbled step neared you towards the counter.

“I told you the last time we spoke—” the card hit the floor with a booming _clip_ , its sound lost in your pulse “—this isn’t over.” A slow step carried him forward, sending you back further. “Almost, but not _just_ yet.”

His presence was mutilating, every muscle tensing even as your leg throbbed in rejection. The edge of the counter bit at the small of your back, hands gripping into the edges.

“Why are you doing this? Why now? Why me?” It seemed that was the question of the day. Two quivering lips took turns quieting pain and hiding fear.

“ _Why_ am I _doing_ this?” He was a madman, visage void of sanity. Another calculated step forward, your pulse peaking. “I knew you were stupid, but _this_? Come on, you don’t actually think you’re completely _innocent_ here, do you?”

One final step and he was smothering you, fury sweltering as it drifted from his skin to yours. His jugular vein was throbbing to match one prominent on his forehead. Kylo’s eyes may have resembled the emptiness of death, but Robbie’s were swimming with a vengeful desire to deliver it. Vomit rose when you smelled his breath, felt it hot over your nose in his proximity.

“Maybe you can learn, though.” He brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, clammy hands slick over burning skin, scanning eyes set in thought. “Maybe you’re not completely helpless after all.”

Two hands strangled your own, tightened them to the counter as he pressed his chest against you, leaning down until he could bury his nose in the collar of your uniform. A complete breath hadn’t come since seeing him, head dizzying with thoughts of blame, rejection, and emergency.

“Why are you apologizing to Ren, huh?” Violating lips pressed into your neck, a whimper leaving as you fought to escape him, searching for the fasted route to safety while he couldn’t see you. “Say sorry to _me_ , baby. It’s that simple.”

Self defense was useless against his armor. His lips pulled at your lobe, a gag forming at the touch. Twisting away from him, you peered down to the drawer and found a pair of scissors, their red handle bright in your periphery. The crushing weight over your hands became bruising, your throat thirsty for escape. The only way to evade him was to indulge him, to distract him with the very thing he sought most.

Repulsion clawed at your stomach. “You want me to apologize, correct?” Sultry words hid the sickness they brought.

Robbie hummed into your neck, nose now buried in your hair while he bucked his hips into you, fire sprouting from your wounds under the pressure. “That’s all I’ve wanted this whole time,” just as Snoke had claimed your last name, Robbie clutched your first, rolling it off in a purr.

“I bet you want me to say your name, too, right? You’d like that a lot?” Today had tested your ability to hide your true intentions. Brushing your thumbs along his hold, as much as you could under their restriction, you eyed the scissors. “The name _I_ gave you?”

A grunt left him, another thrust into your brand fuzzing your vision. “ _Yes_. Say my name. Apologize to _me_.”

Eyes shut tight while Robbie continued in his unwanted nearness, you swallowed hard. “Kiss me, then.” He stopped moving, shoulders still as air stalled in his lungs. “Kiss me and I’ll apologize. I’ll say your name.” It was a desperate hope to hold that he wouldn’t hear the shakiness of the offer.

“Dammit,” he breathed, “you _can’t_ be taught.” Rage grated against his throat, grip leaving your hands and wrapping around your neck. He leaned you back over the counter, the stance awkward and agonizing. “What a _stupid_ bitch! You think this is a trade? You ruined my life! You gave me an identity and ripped it away like it was _nothing_! Like _I_ was _nothing_!”

Black pulsed at the corners of your vision, his face doubling and dizzying as you reached for the drawer, fingers inching over nondescript items. “ _Apologize_! And maybe, _maybe_! I will let you leave here. How does that sound?”

Grappling your free hand over his clutch, you gagged for words, none escaping his compression while you collected saliva at the back of your mouth. You mouthed his name, eyes full of feigned pleads while your fingers found the scissors’ handle.

Robbie’s jaw quivered more while he watched you struggle. Your manipulation was working. That seemed to be a theme today. Though, this one was much easier to endure. Two murderous eyes flickered between yours, quicker and quicker with each movement until he released your throat just enough for you to form words.

Fist locked onto your weapon, adrenaline readying, you stared directly at him and hocked a gob of hot spit into his eyes. He went to shake it free, but your hand came up and slashed down through his brow and over his left cheek. Robbie’s hands flooded towards his face as you pushed him out of the way, scissors still in hand while you rushed for the door. But your leg was a hindrance, dragging behind you, eventually only hopping on the one when the pain began to cut deeper with each stride.

The door activated per your touch and basked you in the light of freedom, only for your head to fly backward as a fist dragged you away from safety. A string of winces left in line with a pouted scream. It barely registered but the exit hissed shut again, your forehead cracking against it with the same force that’d just been around your throat.

“ _This_ is what I’ve been waiting for—” a harsh inhale came at your nape “—you knew it all along. Away for months only to get new _fucking_ security the moment you return?”

He had you pinned, legs splayed and arms flung out. Your forearms framed your head, his hands flat over your wrists and stealing every bit of opportunity. The scissors hung loosely under your hand, teetering closer to the floor with each second.

“You left me! I woke up and you were _gone_. Such a fucking cunt, and for no reason.”

“You are _psychotic_ you sick, vile _creature_!” Pain seethed into your tone, bandage rubbing into the raised skin.

Robbie trembled with anger, his body vibrating at your back as he pressed further into your right hand so the scissors finally fell. “Maybe that voice was never beautiful.” His right arm bent your elbow behind your back so his abdomen could trap it there; when he was satisfied, he reached it around you so it lay flat in front of your mouth, grip wrapping around your left forearm. His head pushed into yours so your mouth went flush with his arm and your nose could barely attempt at breathing. “Maybe it was only ever annoying. _Useless_.”

You couldn’t escape him. There were no defenses left to attempt, the only one now bloodied at your feet. All you could do was endure. There was nothing left. No time. No saviors. All that remained was an overwhelming sense of guilt and a pestering question: did you deserve this? After all you’d done, all you’d been forced to do and go through with? In some way, was this karma? In turn for hurting the one you loved, you would be hurt by one who you’d wanted to love? Was this the restoration of balance?

A stifling hand rushed under your skirt, taking time to grope at the flesh over your underwear. Every effort to flex away from him was wasted, and there was so little left to fight for. The message that flashed over your left wrist taunted you, held you just as captive as the monster behind you; in saving two lives, doing what you thought was right, you had given up every aspect of your own. Robbie had snaked his touch beneath the thin fabric, now moving it aside and preparing his own clothing, and the only thing you could focus on was the patterned scrawl on your watch.

It was mocking you, emphasizing its point in the darkest moment of your life, your body stiff and scared with no lasting dignity. There was less than a person, less than a shell now. Each organ working to keep you alive was doing so in vain, purpose fleeting from your foggy thoughts; you’d returned to heal wounds you’d grown to want, and now you wouldn’t live to see them scab over.

You wretched onto his arm, biting down onto the flexed muscle, when you felt the head of his penis swipe over the back of your injured leg. Vomit threatened when his hips circled and he moaned, breath thick and satisfied.

“No, you’ll never forget me,” he huffed, “You won’t have the time.”

Robbie readied himself for penetration, your tears hot and obstructed at his arm, your eyes peering over at the watch as you tried to die at your own will first. Furious, unrefined disgust and shame stabbed your soul when you felt him proceed, felt him buck into you. Your brain couldn’t decide whether to catch fire or burn out, didn’t want to accept this as one of the last things you’d feel.

His breath shuddered at your neck, your cries silent and shattered beneath him. He attempted to speak, but something happened. Something sudden and fleeting and rapturous. A miracle born in the absence of hope.

The lights went out. Pitch blackness swallowed you, enveloped him and in tow distracted him. His restraints weakened and you slammed your head back against his, adrenaline softening the blow.

“ _Fuck_!” Robbie tripped backwards, leaving you completely.

Stunned at the event, you stalled, not knowing what to do. You couldn’t move quick enough, Robbie catching your knee in his bent over position. It was nearly impossible to see him, but the red cast of your watch threw crimson shadows just far enough to glint off his bloodied features. He wasn’t going to give up until one of you was dead.

“Get off of me!” Of course he’d attached himself to the leg currently rippling pain through your body.

“We’re not _finished_!” A rough tug brought you down next to him where he attempted to climb on top of you, your fingers digging into his eyes and sending him to his back.

“No—” scrambling fingers searched the dark for your earlier weapon, drying blood sticking when you found it “—we’re not.”

Red. Everything was red. Robbie’s face. The blood which dripped from it. Your hands, the same blood streaking and drying in place. He couldn’t see you’d gained the upper hand. In a final glance over the animal beside you, searching him for humanity and drawing a blank, you felt your heart stutter with a decision that would mark you for life. A mark you’d make yourself.

Interlocking your fingers over the red handle, two steady hands pulsating over the hard object, you brought your arms up and slammed them down with insurgence, hitting the break in his uniform over his right inner thigh. Robbie roared in response, his howls echoing into the nothingness which surrounded him. The red haze of your radar glinted off the pool of blood forming beneath him. With each second, each flashing moment, it grew wider and fuller.

With a hard swallow, relief barely recognizable, you looked into his wide eyes just as the ground began to shake. “Now we’re done.”

Without dropping his stare, your hand slammed to activate the door and you backed out of your residence, watching him fade from view when it locked in front of you. It had to be done. He would’ve done the same. It was him or you. In searching for a reason why, you saw a change in the light coming from your watch. The flashing was different, and it started vibrating. Lifting it to your face, you found the message missing and the radar returned. It was fading in and out, though.

No matter, you were rushed back into the reality of people running past and into the floor lobby. A crowd surrounded the elevator, anger being pushed into the button when it wouldn’t respond. You and your floormates were exiles, the floor continuing its violent shaking. A cloud of rushed and flustered conversation plumed down the hall before every face turned towards you.

“Stairs,” said a quiet collection. “ _Stairs_!”

A group of two dozen people stormed in your direction, their speed scaring you past your pain and into the stairwell. The group moved over each other, the leader switching between you and two men. It was a hushed chaos of stomping feet and fast breath. Nobody would make any noise other than the occasional grunt. On the fourth flight of stairs, more and more people piling out from the doors of their respective floors, your leg began to ache again. Though every step burned into you, you knew you had to escape this. You’d escaped much worse just a minute ago, and, for whatever reason, you were still living. Unknown to you, only revealing itself when it was entirely too necessary, there was a fight in you, and whether it be for yourself or someone or something else, you indulged in it with each step.

When the now stampede of officers of all backgrounds pushed past the doors into the Elite docking bay an alarming new mayhem ripped into realization. Hoards of people were fumbling and climbing over each other while screams tore through the room from all directions. TIEs were being crowded with as many bodies that could fit, and then some. The group you’d arrived with all flailed out, each person on their own journey towards safety.

Right where you’d left it earlier, before every horrible thing had gone on, sat the Command Shuttle. Even this far you could hear the engines stirring. Your legs took over and carried you as fast as they could, no matter the injury or barricades of people. The hell that had been born on this forsaken base would die with it, but you refused to do the same.

Each stride brought you closer the now ascending ramp, watching it close as you caught a glimpse of the future you wanted and were going to fight like hell to protect. One, two, three sloppy paces and your foot caught on the elevated ramp, your body sliding into the ship as it closed completely under you.

Desperate breaths stifled a groan as you slid across the floor. A white boot stomped in front of your face as you remained splayed and heaving beside it.

“Clearance?” It was a command, however useless as you felt the ship lift from the ground.

A dark thought crossed your mind – _well, do you want my watch, or my keycard, or my uniform, or my leg_? Rolling over you found General Hux standing on your opposite side. A thick gulp came as you patted your left arm to your chest, tracing over R – E – N to point towards your position.

“I’m his nurse.” Each word was separate and gasped. “His. I’m his. Commander Ren, I’m his nurse.”

The stormtrooper looked to Hux for approval, only for Hux to look at you with grim, stunned eyes and nod his head. “She’s authorized,” he said. He turned toward the bow of the ship. “Proceed to Ren’s location.”

Remaining on the floor, you felt the ship vibrate into your tired chest, felt the adrenaline course through you in violent pulsations. A veil was cast over your mind, everything close yet distant, present yet past. The only thing you registered was when the ship descended once more and sent your body towards the hatch again. Gripping onto the edge of a seat you strained your arms to keep still, not knowing what was going on, just aware you were still breathing.

Six pairs of boots crowded and fled the now open hatch, frigid air stinging over heated skin. “We’ll get his right, you three get his left!”

_Ren’s location? Get his left_? “What’s going on? Where is Ren?”

Your questions fell on absent ears, Hux now standing and staring out at the threshold until turning his body to allow the men more room.

“He’s breathing, General, but-,”

“But what?” It was the loudest you’d been since screaming in the halls.

Forcing yourself onto your knees, relying on the adrenaline keeping your own pain at bay, you stood to see your Commander being lowered onto the ground, three men at either of his sides seemingly struggling under his weight.

It was an automatic response to rush to him, to begin searching for injuries and checking for airway, breathing, and circulation hindrances. There wasn’t much hiding the emergency residing over his right side, splitting the skin and muscle apart in a broken, bloody stripe. It flayed his face, red streaks spilling from it and glinting in the low light of the ship.

“ _Stars_! Someone get me some light!” you screamed, command taking over. This was your patient. This was your future. You were going to protect him. No matter what, that’s what you were going to do.

Two soldiers jumped at your voice, flooding away and falling into the wall when the ship catapulted upward once more. One grappled for the back wall and pulled a black box with a red medic symbol engraved on top. He threw it to the second and the three next to you scattered so he could open it for you and shine an overhead light.

“Hey! You three—” you barely glanced at the men before gesturing them down “—take these and apply heavy pressure when I say, understand?”

None of them moved when you threw three dense collection pads toward them. “ _DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME_?” They all quickly grabbed one and waited for your go ahead.

Angling yourself so you could finally find Kylo’s eyes, you leaned over him and watched as he seethed away; you didn’t know if this was a reaction aimed towards you or due to the very obvious pain he was in.

“Kylo,” you whispered, knowing it was too loud and chaotic for anyone else to hear or care, “you’re going to feel pressure and then it’s going to be really painful, but I need to make sure the bleeding stops. Just be prepared.”

He looked up at you like he’d never met you, like you were a perfect stranger. It wasn’t the nothingness from before, but instead something more alive. Wonderment, almost. Or shock. That was a more reasonable emotion at this moment.

Keeping his stare, you gestured the three waiting men with your hand. “Now.”

The men plunged the sponges into his wound and watched as the material expanded and filled with blood. Kylo’s jaw set firm and fluttered by his ear. A quiet grunt left him while your own breath caught. Watching him so pained and wounded was an impossible act. The only thought you’d allow yourself to have was of the relief you’d have once he was being cared for by a team from wherever the ship was heading.

Something warm washed over your right knee. Looking away from him you found it was more blood, another wound on the side of his abdomen dripping through his uniform.

“Fuck, I swear!” You threw your hands over it, pushing deep into his tissue. “How much longer till-,”

The ship answered your question before you could finish it, slightly angling to the side as it went into a rough, screeching landing. Kylo grimaced at this just slightly, lip trembling only a second before he returned to that same shock, staring up at you in silence.

Light seared into the ship when the ramp fell without effort, hitting the floor with two loud bangs. Before you could register, a team of medical professionals slid a transfer board below him and went to move. You grabbed one of the handles on the side, remaining at his waist while you watched him, keeping steady pressure over his abdomen. Blood sopping onto your hands and burying Robbie’s.

“How long has he been like this?” came an indiscriminate voice from behind you. A man, again. The same one who’d helped you with Talia. The physician you’d worked with to save your patient.

“We collected him probably five minutes ago. Initially I only noticed the one gash but found another two minutes ago. There has been constant pressure applied since discovery. The patient is semi-alert, not responding verbally, but appears to be awake.” There was no time for stuttering, the group closing in on the entrance to the Elite med bay.

“Another one right over his shoulder, sir.” Another voice, female this time, came from behind.

“I’m ordering stat fluids and blood replacement therapy. Along with that I will instruct the pharmacy to have antibiotics ready and for the arrival team to gain the appropriate IV access first thing.” The team pushed into the assessment room you’d come to know all too well, your feet stopping as the physician’s did next to you.

“Do you approve of those orders?” He snaked his head to get your attention.

Stunned, shell-shocked eyes peered up at him, head dizzy and ears rushing with blood. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re his nurse. You got him this far. Do you think anything else needs to be added to the immediate care plan?”

You’d meant to say no, to agree that the physician was appropriate and logical in his treatment. Instead, your eyes fluttered shut as sound began to fade. The ceiling grew in distance while you felt your knees give out.

“Get her head!”

The last thing you registered was a hand at the back of your neck and the sound of urgent feet rushing toward you. There was a faint set of three beeps which accompanied your fall, monitors running beyond the threshold where Kylo was receiving care. A team was caring for him. He was safe. You could rest now. You could heal now.

And so you did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in short: Robbie raped RC and then RC slashed a hole into his femoral artery and went to escape off of Starkiller Base and deliver emergency care to Kylo. She fainted at the end.
> 
> And we have arrived at canon divergence, my friends. Did not upload yesterday because I wanted to take my time instead of rush this thing out. I truly hope you all have enjoyed the story thus far.
> 
> Okay, so. My ADN classes and clinical start again on Thursday. What this means: I'm taking a 2-3 week break from writing so I can get into a good rhythm for school and just find my bearings. I think this is a perfect place to take a break. It'll act as an intermission in a way. Jeez, I think you all have earned one by now. 
> 
> I am truly stunned that you all take the time to read this and I always love reading your thoughts on everything, so please I always encourage you to share! Stay safe, stay true, and rest.
> 
> P.S. Chapter seventeen, paragraph five is where I set this up so it wasn't out of the blue. But I guess I set it up starting at thirteen. So this has been a long time coming.


	23. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one is hurt, comfort is imperative.

Time has always had a funny way of making itself scarce when needed most. It seemed that you could barely remember the trial, like it had never happened and all that remained to prove that it had were the restraints locked tight around each of your wrists and your neck. Above you sounded the molten, fatal buzz of the plasma guillotine, though it was mere background noise to the riotous cacophony of the rabid crowd awaiting your final moment. As you knelt, trembling against the icy durasteel, face frozen under cold-stuck tears, you tried and failed to settle into acceptance that this would be your last act of life.

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure if anyone could hear you, “I… I saved that man’s life. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t deserve to die for keeping my oath.” You tried to scream but the pleads were barely whispers.

Out of sight came a bellowed laugh, full and ragged just as it had been in the past. “That isn’t why you’re here, young officer.” Snoke could hardly contain his glee. “You’re forgetting, you may have saved one life, but you took another.”

Nausea waved through you and your head started pounding; Snoke’s presence was pain, magnified with each echo of his words as the arena shook against the surround sound. An uproar of cheers and chanting came from before you, the crowd booming with enthusiasm, hanging off of every word their Supreme Leader spoke.

Through the fog of terrified eyes you saw an image appear behind the audience, scaling the entire back wall and striking you with rage. A scrollbar read something you could only assume to be his First Order given name, your focus too centered on the enormous projection of Robbie’s face, smiling while he held his helmet tight against his chest. He looked too nice, just as he’d seemed when you gave him a name. He was being renowned as a hero, his death marking you as the villain.

“I… He! I was defending myself, he was going to kill me!”

“But instead you killed me.”

This voice was angelic, familiar and welcoming in the storm surrounding you. It was accompanied by the footsteps you’d become so fond of, coming closer with every panted breath that fell from your lips. Kylo crowded your view of the blinding screen, a cape trailing in his path. He stopped when he was centered in your view and crouched so he was eye level with you.

He wore no mask, nothing to conceal his beautiful visage as the sight of him constricted your heart. When was the last you’d seen him? It felt like it had been so long, yet you could barely grasp any concept of time. It was frustrating, like you were barred in your memory. Kylo’s face gave no indication into his emotions, yet for a fleeting moment you swore you saw a tear glint over his cheek.

“Yet another of your victims, yes?” Snoke remained hidden, his voice shifting between your ears, slithering like the snake he was.

“You made me! I had no-,”

“ _Choice_.” It was a discordant wrath of voices; at first Kylo’s, then Snoke’s, trailing off with the whispers of Robbie’s and Mason’s.

Kylo brought one hand, bare and freezing, to your cheek. It hadn’t been there before, but his face was now split with the consequences of battle, a gash – open, pulsating, and weeping – ripping through his features. A shiver sank into you, you throat tightening.

The way in which he next breathed your name made you weep, his thumb catching the tear that burned into your skin. “You’ve always had a choice, remember? You just keep making-,”

“The wrong ones.” You finished his sentence, remembering the first time he’d said it. A futile attempt was made to reach for his hand, a sting coming as the restraint bit into your wrist.

The crowd was growing impatient, hordes of screams coming from behind Kylo’s shoulders. The screen behind him shifted to present the live cast of your suffering, the view suggesting that it was Kylo’s own eyes giving view to the onlookers, your face excruciatingly close, allowing every audience member to bask in the terror that plagued you.

You sniffled, nuzzling into his hand and looking between his eyes. He mimicked you, though his gaze was empty, just as it had been one of the last times you could remember seeing him. “I trusted you,” he said. “More than anything.”

Kylo began to leave you, his fingertips lingering just before he could take three steps backwards. The plasma blade above you began hissing louder with inevitability, your eyes squeezing shut as you awaited your sentence’s completion. Pain took root in your left upper thigh, a kind of burning as you continued to kneel. A string of agony tore through your throat as your eyes shot open to see Kylo’s hand shoot up.

“No, no! Please! Kylo, no!” You could see your face twist with desperation behind him now, tears willful in their presence as each one painted creaks of pain down to the durasteel.

Snoke let out another flood of evil-tinged amusement as Kylo turned his face toward the direction the sound came. “You still don’t understand, stupid girl.” Another bark of laughter. “You might have had a choice,” he said, “but your Master never did. Never will.”

And as they were spoken, you saw that crushing glimmer of humanity flicker in the face of Kylo Ren as he turned back to you. Snoke, infuriatingly, was right, of course. Hearing it out loud, accepting it as fact, calmed you down. Staring up at him, watching his fingers twitch, you spent your last remaining second pitying him for all the control he believed he had, knowing more than he did that it was a masterful mirage. Snoke had Kylo wrapped around his finger; you had only aided in tightening his grip.

 _More than anything_. It was the last thought before you heard the overhead blade drawing near, its volume immense until it wasn’t. The next thing you were aware of was the overbearing smell of flatcakes wafting into your nostrils. Taking a few deep breaths, your attention went to the ache twisted into the back of your skull, the dryness sticking to your lips, and the warm weight present over your right leg.

Taking one more deep breath, you coughed, lungs feeling like they’d been stagnant for a while, rejecting the stretch of air. Light was obvious even as your eyes remained shut, its overwhelming presence leading you to blink a few times before adapting.

“Where am I?” you croaked out. Answering your question, you first saw the familiar polygon meal tray sitting atop a bedside table while your watch rested next to it, next catching view of the pulse oximeter resting over your left index finger. This was the medbay.

The first thing that came to mind was your dream, remembering Kylo’s wounded face. He was hurt. Where was he? Was he okay? The monitor to your left sounded louder as your heart rate accelerated. Warmth left your right leg as you saw something move in your periphery. A person.

Mason had been asleep, his hair stuck to his face when he first looked at you with shock and relief. “You scared me!” He sprung up from the chair he’d been sitting in and flung his arms around you. “The news about Starkiller came and I didn’t know where you were.” He hummed your name into your neck while rocking you back and forth. “I thought you were… I thought you had… I didn’t know…”

“Mason.” It was all you could think to say, your arms resting at your side as he kept his hold on you. Maybe you should’ve felt relief that he was here and that he was okay, but all you could feel was regret and an overwhelming sadness. Mason was none the wiser, but his very existence was a reminder of what you’d done, undeniable proof of the choice you’d made.

He finally leaned back, keeping his hand locked around yours and staring down at you with red-rimmed eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his nerves settling more the longer he looked over your face. “I tried calling you—” a laugh accompanied the distant raise of his brows “—but I lost my commlink. I guess. I actually don’t know-,”

“What?” you interrupted his explanation, confused by his recall of events, wondering why Snoke wasn’t the focal point of his reasoning.

His face fell. “What? Did I say something? Are you hurt? Do you need water? Food? I actually ordered some flatcakes for me, but they’re all yours if you-,”

“You _lost_ your commlink?”

His brow creased and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Yeah? Yeah. I mean. I guess. It’s been crazy around here today and—” his face bloomed in horror “—oh, _fuck_! I didn’t mean that your day hasn’t been bad, I just. Yeah. I lost it.”

He didn’t seem like he knew anything about Snoke, or that he remembered ever enduring the pain you’d heard him scream through the communication device earlier – actually, how long had it been?

“So… There was nothing… I mean, you weren’t… Summoned? Or…?”

“Summoned?” Mason looked at you with amused confusion. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t give you any pain medicine, but you’re acting a little loopy.”

He didn’t know. He was blissfully ignorant to Snoke’s involvement in your or his life. Again, instead of relief you were met with that bleakness from before. “Maybe I was just dreaming,” you brushed it off.

 _Dreaming_. Kylo. “I need to see him,” you mumbled, moving to stand and becoming extremely aware of your left leg once more. A hiss left you before Mason could pull your shoulders back against the bed, your hand reaching down to soothe the blanket-covered wounds.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Doctor Belkar wants to examine you before you start walking.”

“Belkar?” You couldn’t remember ever hearing that name, though your memory may not be the most reliable at the moment.

“I heard my name.” A man – shorter, skinny, and dark-skinned – peered into the door before knocking and stepping in. “Oh, good! Glad to see you’re awake. You had us worried there for a moment.” Belkar took a few more steps so he was on your left, clutching a datapad under his arm and smiling down at you. His presence was comfortable and professional. He seemed to possess a bedside manner not common of many physicians, and he’d barely even spoken.

Squinting towards his badge you found his first name. “Trace Belkar.” You sounded it out, feeling a faint sense of familiarity. Looking to his face, it finally struck you. “Oh! You’re, you are the one who… You helped me with my friend earlier.” Warmth set in your cheeks when you realized you knew him.

“Ah! My first surprise patient of the day. Funny how things seem to come full circle, isn’t it? Now-,”

Further realization hit. “You also helped me that night. I was the nurse who…” Maybe he didn’t remember who you were, and maybe he didn’t need to, given your actions that night were rather infamous currently.

“Yes! I knew you looked familiar seeing you yesterday. You are the nurse that saved my patient’s life. Great work that night, by the way. Fast-thinking, resourceful. Gives me hope for the next generation of medics.” A quick smile flashed across his face before he reached into his coat pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind following my finger with your eyes.”

It probably took too long for you to follow his request as you were taken aback by his praise for that night. The only emotions you’d ever attached to that it had been pain and fear, likely influenced by the way you were being reprimanded at the moment, thinking of that night as a crime rather than the miracle that it was for that man.

“Um, yes. Sorry.” You shook your head and followed the tip of his finger as he dragged it around – up and down, right to left, and finally in a diagonal cross.

“Any nausea, pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches?” His tone was absent while he traced his penlight in and out of sight to finish his PERRLA assessment.

“I’m really fine. This isn’t necessary at all.” You couldn’t stand being treated like a patient. Even when you were one. Knowing the inner workings of every check made it difficult not to see through their purpose. “I could probably leave now and I’d be fi-ah!” You’d tensed your wounded leg without thinking when shifting in the bed.

“How’s that leg treating you?” It seemed he was psychic in his assumptions, though you knew he’d probably had a nurse do a head-to-toe assessment while you were out.

Mason was puzzled when you looked over at him. “What’s wrong with her leg? She passed out. What’s wrong with her-,”

“Mason, will you go find me some water? And maybe a warm blanket? Please.” Your eyes were locked with Belkar’s as you quieted Mason, mindlessly squeezing his hand to encourage his leave. Mason did not need to see your brand. He wouldn’t understand, and you didn’t feel like having to explain to him, that you felt deserving of it and much worse.

There was a silent moment as you watched Belkar and felt Mason’s eyes before he squeezed your hand back and told you he’d be back soon. The door shut behind him and the quiet swallowed you.

“From what I read in your chart it seemed you’d given yourself a makeshift dressing. Your nurse was actually impressed at how well it was done. I do have some questions about the scars under it, though. If you don’t mind.” He seemed to know to tread lightly; his demeanor reminded you of the one you were instructed to use on abuse survivors.

You shook your head, but this only clued you into another pain. “ _Jeez_! Ow!” Your hand fled to your forehead, finding a bandage sealed over a large bump. It was tender to touch, flinching as you remembered Robbie banging your head into the door.

Belkar took his datapad from under his arm and tapped away as you recovered. “There.” He pressed the screen once more before returning it to its original spot. “The nurse should be in here soon with some-,”

“I don’t want it.” You swallowed, dropping your hand and staring at your lap.

Belkar paused and shifted in his stance. He clicked his tongue, put his datapad down, and pulled up a chair. He called you by your last name, professional yet with a considerable amount of concern. “Will you tell me what caused your injuries?”

He was attempting therapeutic communication. And he was succeeding. An uncomfortable laugh left you. “What is there to tell? I’m hurt. In ways that aren’t physical. Ways that are.” Your lip began to quiver before you caught it with your teeth.

Another pause from Belkar. His hand twitched and your eyes jumped to it. He noticed this. “Can I hold your hand?”

The offer was tempting, but you declined by shaking your head and finally looking up at him. There were crinkles splayed outward from his eyes and gray hairs obvious in an overgrown stubble on his cheeks. He was a kind soul, you could tell; it was evident in his eyes, clear and green yet full of warmth. Soon after setting eyes on him you felt your throat thicken and your eyes water.

“You know,” you laughed, scraping at your eyes and sniffling, “I don’t even know what I’d say to any of the questions you mentioned before.”

A kind smile, no teeth, brought his cheeks up. “How about just one, then?”

“Yeah. One. I guess.”

He made sure your eyes were on his before he spoke again. “Do you want to report the person who did this to you?”

Another nervous laugh left. And then a sob before the heels of your hands met your face. “That’s not necessary,” you said through hiccuped words. Robbie’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, the pool of blood spreading below him before the door hissed shut. Your dream, the screen presenting his smiling face. “I… I don’t even know what to do anymore! I can’t… I have… I can’t fix this!”

Belkar squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. His face was blurry through your tears. “Slow down. Just breathe. Shh. Slow down.” He modeled how to do so, exaggerating when he took a deep breath through his nose.

After several breaths you closed your eyes and threw your head back on the pillow, keeping your hand in Belkar’s. “I’m sure you’ve seen the scars? Or read about them at the least, right? And then I know you were the one who caught me before I passed out so you obviously know who I work for.”

“Are those two things related?” He was trying not to assume anything.

“All that matters is that this—” you gestured to your head “—and _this_ —” you placed a gentle hand over your wrapped thigh, petting a thumb over it “—are unrelated.” Belkar knew not to speak when you choked on your tears in search of words you weren’t even sure you wanted to say. “I was… Someone broke into my residence just before the explosion. And he.” You paused again, feeling Belkar’s grip tighten and relax over your trembling hand. You cleared your throat. “I was taken advantage of. He went down with the base. It would be pointless to report when the perpetrator is already dead.” Bloodied scissors flashed into your memory before you looked back up to Belkar.

He nodded, placing his second hand over yours. The warmth was welcome, and surprising. “Should I order an emergency contraceptive or a spermicide?” There wasn’t a fraction of discomfort when he asked the question. Complete care and professionalism. He felt safe.

“No, I don’t need that. I had a chip placed last year.” You ran your tongue over your teeth, swallowing before speaking again. “But, um. I was wondering if…”

“Yes?”

“Commander Ren,” you said, searching his eyes for judgment, “is he… How is he?” Your bottom lip would need to heal from chewing it so much.

Another warm, small smile lifted on Belkar’s face. “It’s admirable, your passion for his care. Even in your current state. Even with those wounds you only care about his wellbeing.” Fire bit at your face, your eyes falling back to the bed. “It’s the mark of a true healer. Setting aside your own pain to lessen someone else’s. Your patient’s.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised your eyebrows, “do you know how he’s doing?”

“Before I came in to examine you, I was actually on my way to see Commander Ren. Would you like to come with me?”

“I should probably…” You trailed off, finally feeling relief when thinking about seeing Kylo and avoiding Mason. “Do you think I can walk? How did the nurse say I was healing?”

Belkar scooted out from the chair and stood, offering you a hand for support. “I actually would prefer you start walking now to discourage clotting. It’s likely you can leave here tonight once its officially been twenty-four hours since your admission.”

He made sure to fix your gown so you weren’t exposed while standing before you could tie the lower fastener. He kept a hand lightly placed over your mid-back, the other now holding your hand. “How long has it been since I got here?”

He started you on a slow pace and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Robbie may have been the one to die, but death took residence in you; a bruise splotched out over your forehead, your hair flat and knotted, exhaustion shadowing your eyes. There were multiple bruises lining your arms, their origin a mystery, though you could only suspect a majority had come from the crowd of people you’d stormed through the stairwells with. The one injury you’d grown to cherish was masked by the ill-fitting white and grey patterned gown, the article most definitely shielding an additional multitude you were still unaware of.

“The Command Shuttle arrived soon after Starkiller exploded. Ren was transferred to medbay in less than a minute and began treatment within the next five upon arrival. You fainted before then.” He led you into the hall and began walking through the maze of bustling hallways. “You’ve been resting for nearly sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen. Stars.” The pain in your leg lessened the more you walked, seeing the faces of coworkers who last saw you that fateful night.

“We monitored your intracranial pressure for the first few hours, but it seems you were only severely exhausted and mildly dehydrated. Understandably, of course.” He took a familiar left turn and the entrance to the Elite medbay came into view. “I had entered orders to start you on oral antibiotic therapy as soon as you woke up, completely a prophylactic measure, but it won’t affect anything to hold off for now.”

Belkar swiped his badge across the scanner and the doors hissed open, your heart now thumping in your chest. The last time you’d seen Kylo, you’d assumed _would be_ the last time. Even as you kept forward, nerves twisting your intestines, you couldn’t deny the need you felt to see him again. It scared you, though, imagining how he’d react to your presence.

“Um, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t think Commander Ren needs any more visitors than necessary.” You stopped Belkar just before he swiped to open the door to your Master’s exclusive medbay.

“It’s a good thing neither of us are visitors.” The door shot open. “We’re his providers.” Belkar stepped past the threshold. “He wouldn’t mind either way,” you followed in after him, hesitant while you stared down at the floor, “I placed him in a therapeutic coma to keep him from disturbing the stitching in his wounds.”

This news brought your eyes up as you entered the room and felt the door shut behind you. Kylo Ren, outfitted in the same gown as you, was supine on the bed, unconscious. Peaceful. His gown was left unsnapped at the shoulders, a blanket resting above his hips and tucked under his wrists. The assessment table had been replaced, an IV pole set up on his left side, a monitor reading off the contents and status of the three current running fluids: metronidazole, normal saline, and a third – separate – line running a bag of packed red blood cells. Kylo was breathing on his own, though there was an intubation kit ready on the bedside table, you noticed while routinely scanning the room for necessary emergency intervention equipment.

Belkar rid the distance between him and Ren, your own feet stopping just before the door. The physician looked at you with a creased brow but quickly dissolved his expression as he accepted your decision. After setting his datapad down he gently peeled back Kylo’s gown, resting it over the blanket and then gesturing towards him with his hands.

“The coma was a last resort,” he began. “Commander Ren was exhibiting signs of delirium when my team began his care. After nearly two hours of noncompliance I wrote a STAT order to initiate it.” Belkar sighed, this fact disappointing to him.

“When you say delirium…” Your hands strangled in and out of fists, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of your gown while you looked on at your sleeping patient.

The physician’s mouth had settled into somewhat of a pout, considering your question. “Ren’s health history was scattered and scant in the archives, virtually nothing resembling a family history. It was most likely the physical trauma that caused it, but…” Belkar turned his body to you while keeping his eyes on Kylo. “Whenever any of the nurses or techs would attempt to orient him during those first two hours he kept telling us _he’s dead_.”

A single step took you further from the door. “Was.. Did he ever say who he was talking about? A name?” This information confounded you, leaving you to wonder whose death could possibly matter so much to Kylo Ren that he’d recount while his mental defenses were weakened?

A deeper, more frustrated sigh left Belkar. “There’s been so little time and the staff is already so overworked with all the new admissions.” He uncovered one of Kylo’s legs and checked the placement and setting of the compression device wrapped around it. “I appointed a droid to sift through the archives to find anything, to see if there was any information on a Ben.”

“Ben?”

“That’s who we assume is _dead_ , as he kept repeating.”

“You _assume_? What does that mean?” Another step and your eyes shot to the vitals monitor, seeing his heart rate was in the low fifties. Bradycardic, hence the fluids.

“The two phrases came sporadically. At times he would say the name, and whenever any of the care team would ask him who Ben was…”

“They’d suddenly be at a _loss for words_?”

Belkar’s mouth quirked for half a second, falling quickly when he shifted the blanket back to its original place. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He looked at you again, contemplating, narrowing his eyes. “I imagine you’ve endured such acts. I only assume given—” he gestured to your leg.

Heat flared in your cheeks and your pulse picked up. Swallowing, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and crossed your arms. “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know why Kylo Ren had left his mark, only that he had. This brought you ease. “Yes, Commander Ren doesn’t have the best handle on his…anger. I suppose.”

Belkar swallowed, watching you. “Does he scare you?”

This caught you off guard, fingers biting into your arms when you took another step forward. “Does Kylo Ren scare me?” You took a few seconds to really think about it, feeling comfortable when you met Belkar’s eyes again, only a few paces from the bed now. “It would be counterintuitive to be afraid of my own patient.”

“Do you feel safe when you are working with him?” He was subtly attempting to screen you for abuse – well, _further_ abuse – his face trying to hide the curiosity in his tone.

“Doctor Belkar, I do appreciate you’re worried for me. But it is misplaced. Now, would you tell me more about my patient, please?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your forward effort to change the subject. “I do apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable. I noticed your hesitancy to be near him and thought-,”

“That’s unrelated, Doctor,” maybe in too harsh a manner, you bit his words off. You didn’t feel like telling the edited version of how you believed yourself to be the abuser when it came to Kylo, and you were sure Belkar, just as Mason, wouldn’t understand if you tried. “Will you please just tell me how he’s been doing?” A crack in your voice revealed how weak your defenses were.

The physician’s head nodded back slightly in understanding. Today was good for no one. Tensions were high. He knew you had just woken up after experiencing both known and unknown traumas. “Would you help me change his dressings while we discuss his care?” A truce, gentle and acknowledging.

Your shoulders fell with a breath you hadn’t realized was waiting to escape, your throat clearing when you walked to the drawers set up behind you. Activating one, you pulled out the necessary supplies and set them up as Belkar opened them. He walked you through the various monitors connected to Kylo – leeds stuck to his chest, a cuff around his upper right arm, the pumps over his legs, the IVs placed. He uncovered Ren’s pelvis and had you assess his catheter, mentioning the drainage bag below the bed. The antibiotics were prophylactic, just as yours would be; there had been too many unknowns around Ren’s injuries to not protect against potential sepsis.

When Belkar had completed his assessment – stopping to listen to breath and bowel sounds, motioning for you to do the same with the provided stethoscope to test your knowledge – you helped him fix the gown and sheets back over Kylo’s chest, your breath catching when your fingers brushed against his skin. The doctor tucked his datapad back under his arm and walked to the door, activating it before stepping out. However, you had remained at Kylo’s side, watching him as he slept.

“Doctor Belkar?” you called after him, not looking away from Kylo.

A sigh left him, this one fond. Kind. “A true healer.” He was thoughtful in tone. “Use the assistance indicator should you become faint. Should your friend inquire about your whereabouts-,”

“Tell him I’m okay—” you licked your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek “—tell Mason he can leave if he… Tell Mason he can leave.”

There was no response before the door hissed shut, allowing you to let free the whimper which had been stuck since you first set eyes on Kylo. You realized you’d never seen him asleep. The one night you’d shared his bed your focus just on that fact, not on observing him. That night had been the only time you’d seen his full heart, or at least more of it than you had. Now, standing beside him, still reluctant to get too close, you were crying just as he had. That night seemed like a separate lifetime, like a dream you’d only ever get to revisit in your memories now.

Tearing your eyes away from him, clearing your throat and thumbing away more tears, you ran your fingertips along the hanging fluids; the saline would need to be replaced soon, and the metronidazole was running at an accelerated rate. The blood, you checked the label, had been hung just prior to your arrival, the colloid causing you to stop and gently press into its plastic confines. A huff of weak amusement left you; it had never occurred to you that this blood would ever be used for its intended purpose, intended recipient. Seeing it running into Kylo’s veins, checking the transfusion sight for infiltration and redness, you felt a sort of sick irony settle into the room. This very fluid, more or less, would be your demise; it was capable of sustaining life, replenishing it, yet would be the very thing to end yours.

The monitor blinked in your periphery, catching your attention; his heart rate was improving, finally skimming the upper fifties, his respirations coming evenly. Steeling yourself, bunching your gown in your hands, you looked down at him. Kylo Ren, resting and vulnerable, lay below for your appraisal. Belkar had walked you through the proper routine to change his dressings, his abdominal wound and the one scraping across his shoulder healing well under the soaked gauze. The wound fixed along his face, however, had been created too awkwardly to be dressed as the others. A grafting patch had been placed along the length of the injury, a black stripe of the regenerative material precise in its placement.

There was so much pain etched into him, you wondered if his outward appearance now matched his inner, the thought choking you with a sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was silly to wait for a response, to look at him in anticipation, but you did.

It took several minutes of deliberation, but you eventually joined him in the bed, gently sitting on his right side as to not disturb anything. The tips of your right index and middle finger trailed along the ridges of the unbandaged wound, feeling his pulse in the raised flesh, landing on his forehead and brushing into his hair.

“ _Oh_.” It startled you when your fingers got stuck in a mat at his ends. Rolling it between your fingers you found it to be dried, congealed blood. It wasn’t surprising; hair care was not the priority right now, the nurses already straining themselves without paying attention to trivial duties.

But you had time and he was here with no way of objecting, your hand cupping his face before you began gathering your supplies and setting them up. The silence was comforting for only a few minutes, soon leaving you to your thoughts, those which shuddered through you with images of Robbie and Snoke and Kylo.

“I don’t even know how we got here,” you mumbled while filling a basin with warm water. A bitter chuckle, a cough chasing it. “I do, actually. I know _exactly_ how we got here.” Placing the full basin on the bedside table, carefully wheeling it to the head of his bed, you gazed over him. “Snoke. Mason. Rob-,” the name stuck in your throat. “The stormtrooper.”

Gentle thumbs tracked like feathers atop his cheekbones, your remaining fingers pushing into his thick locks and brushing it behind his ears. After admiring him for a moment longer you collected the necessary linen, grabbing three extra towels, four in total. Setting them up – one beneath him, another two rolled and resting atop his shoulders, and the last spread over your lap when you sat on a stool – you reached for the cup you’d earlier grabbed and filled it with water.

“I should’ve told you.” It seemed you would never stop crying; a tear struck his forehead as you poured the first cup over his head, ensuring to guard his eyes and ears. “I never… Snoke threatened Mason. He threatened him and all I could think was that I wouldn’t allow someone else to endure punishment meant for me.” Kylo’s hair darkened as it wet, the towel beneath him turning pink with diluted blood. “That wouldn’t be fair. Someone suffering because my own mistakes? No. No, that would be selfish. Selfish and, and… I don’t know.” A sigh and a swallow. “I don’t know.”

With a second cup you wet the rest of his locks and lathered shampoo between your hands. “I woke up yesterday hating you, wishing I was dead so I didn’t have to see you after that day. I fucking hate him so much!” Your chin trembled in anger, imagining Snoke knowing this was happening, wondering how much he really knew, if he could see while Kylo slept. “And it wasn’t even… That’s what I hate the most. You had so little say in it, so little choice and I spent a whole month, wasted so much time, hating the wrong person. Hating you.”

Rolling his ends between your fingers, you scrubbed at the mats until they became loose. “I wish you could know that everything I told you was a lie. You were right about it all. I don’t hate you.” Words came easier, tears still streaming with ease, yet your throat clearing with each admission. “Maybe in the beginning when I didn’t know so much, when I didn’t know you. Maybe then I had wanted to, but it’s an impossibility now. Today made me realize that.” A pause while you watched his chest tide, stopping to recount the apology you’d known to give him, remembering how it felt as he held you – broken, raw – in his arms. “Today made me realize a lot of things.”

The last mat had been the toughest, your fingers rolling and rubbing for nearly five minutes until it softened. “Can I… I mean, I know you can’t answer, but…” Your throat got thick again, burning as you tried to swallow a sob. Closing your eyes, you dropped the subject, not wanting to recount the event to even an absent mind yet.

Clearing your throat, you began again, instead recalling the various mentions of Kylo Ren’s history during the past day. “Maybe I don’t know as much about you as others do, though.” Water drenched the towel below his head as you massaged the soap out of his hair, your pulse quickening as you thought about your next question. “The old man. The one on Jakku… He mentioned something about _a time before Kylo Ren_ , or something like that. How did he even know you? How did you know him?”

Working your way through his hair, you rinsed until there were no bubbles remaining. Questioning him felt foreign; if he were awake he would have surely stopped you from continuing. Or from starting at all. But you pressed on, wanting to distract yourself from the reality that lurked in the back of your mind.

“And then later, when I…” Warmth spread through you at the memory of his bed, him setting you there, holding onto him until he left. You tried to hide the pain in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to sob once you’d surely lose the ability to stop. “I heard you. When you were speaking to someone, talking to your grandfather. Was he in there with you? Or were you on a commlink?” You shrugged, knowing all of these inquiries were in vain. “My maternal grandfather passed away before I began university. I never met the other one. Something about family secrets and drama and blah blah blah.”

Another tear fell to Kylo’s face, remembering the pain you’d felt losing someone for the first time, remembering how helpless you were to change anything. A sigh of desperate defeat left you. “I must be cursed. A true healer? Maybe in another life. In this one it seems I can only save a life in turn for another, be it mine or someone I care about.”

After rinsing your hands in the basin, you gathered conditioner on the tips of your fingers and began working it into the now clean ends. A whimper came in place of the stuck sob, breathing becoming difficult as you denied it life. “You said that to me, remember? The night I had gone to Mason. Not exactly but, you said something along the lines of me only listening when the things I value are threatened. It seems the two things go hand in hand; I can’t help anyone without hurting someone else, I can’t make a decision without being forced into it, without being threatened should I make one wrong choice.”

A hand smoothed over the last remaining tendril of hair, soft with the new product, your chest heavy with regret and hindsight. “You wanted me to give my whole self to the First Order. I did, Kylo. And now… I have nothing. There’s nothing left and it’s _my_ fault.” Mason’s worried expression flitted into your mind’s eye. “And if I do have anything left… It’s nothing I want.” Closing your eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb along the rim of the cup, clutching it to your chest. “I wish I could go back. Earlier when I… When I came home. I wish I had told you then. If I had, maybe neither of us would be pawns in Snoke’s game. If I’d told you, maybe I wouldn’t have been-,”

Pain speared you with daggers of rejection. There was no easy or gentle way to confront the truth. No matter if you’d briefly mentioned it with Belkar earlier; to verbalize it, to say out loud what had gone one, scared you. It made it real, gave it power and life. But this would be the only way you’d get to confess to it; soon you’d be alone, left to relive the act over and over until it would be all that remained. It would consume you if you let it.

“I was raped.” You said it before it got stuck again. Finally, after choking on it for so long, that sob broke free, cries grating against your sore throat. “It was the stormtrooper. The one you’d set out to protect me from. The one Snoke had told me you’d been thinking about.” A shaky hand collected another cup of water and let it rinse the conditioner away. “RB-6745. Robbie. _Shit_! I’m so, so _stupid_! I’m so dumb I wish I could fucking die! It would be so much easier if I could just stop…existing, if I could just stop breathing it would all be- none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t- _damn_ it!” A roar tore through clenched teeth before you dragged the towel set across your lap and smothered it against your face.

Scream after scream after scream left you, each one more painful than the last, more broken than the last. The towel collected what tears had set on your cheeks, your voice diminishing before you had the sense to stop yourself from continuing. With the damp cloth draped over your hands, you rested your head in your palms, heaves and hiccups unbidden and unrelenting.

“I gave him a name, Kylo. I did. I gave him a name and I started all of this,” muffled, you finally confronted the truth you had been so unwilling to acknowledge. A bitter crack of laughter left. “ _You will only ever be the start and end of the issue_ ,” you echoed Snoke, voice distant and decimated. “Yeah, well. I guess he was right. I did start it.” Pulling the towel from your face, staring down at the peace painted over your Master, a cold shiver stalled your lungs. “I started it. And I ended it.”

Silence once more met you with suffocation. Studying Kylo’s face – noticing his eyelashes, the cracked nature of his dry lips, finding a fondness in the angle of his nose – you took a deep breath and settled into your new reality, accepting it as it would be, allowing yourself to begin healing as he was before you. “I killed him. I left him to bleed out just before Starkiller exploded. He’s dead.”

The last phrase reminded you as you finished your task, patting the towel into his hair, lifting his head to fully dry him. “Whoever _Ben_ is… and if he’s dead or not –” you rested the towel over your left thigh “—I wonder if I knew him.” Another thought of Kylo’s figurative family. “I wonder if he knew you.”

Once you left here your privileges as his provider would be revoked; when he would wake and sign the proper documents, notify the necessary people, every tie you had to him would be severed. So, to indulge in one last moment, you parted a triangle of hair from the center of his hairline, separated it into three equal sections, and began the simple pattern: left over middle, right over middle, adding hair with each repetition to create a continuous, tight braid. Aside from giving you more time with him, the style would discourage any new mats from forming.

Repeating this process two more times, one more on each side of his head, you made sure that the hair that couldn’t be contained was brushed and flat beneath him. You set a towel under his head to collect any remaining moisture and prevent knotting. The clean-up process was leisurely, your focus shifting to his monitor every now and then to see he was no longer bradycardic. The last time you checked the monitor, a normal sinus rhythm tracing along the display, you found his pulse had risen to sixty-seven beats per minute.

Finished clearing the last of your mess, you sat on the stool, still at the head of his bed. No matter the new addition setting into features – though, in a way, it suited him well – you admired him; here he was at peace. Resting. Healing. The sobs had died out but tears were still liberal in their formation, another falling to hit the inner corner of his right eye. You collected it, chewing your lip before leaning down and again tracing along the outer region of the wound.

Kylo’s breath warmed over your forehead in the proximity, your own catching as it all became too much. Placing your hands on either side of his face so the tips of your fingers held loosely over his jaw, you brought your lips to rest on his. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate it, you knew, but this would be your goodbye.

“I wish I could have given you more than this,” you whispered, lips brushing against his own. “More than anything, Kylo, I wanted to give you more than this.”

Trembling lips pressed into his, your tears reviving the dry flesh, a whimper leaving when he remained still. He would never kiss you back again, the thought piercing as warmth slipped from your cheeks and onto his. However long you stayed like this, your face on his, you tried to silence the reality looming over you. But you couldn’t stay here forever, and you’d probably been gone for far too long already.

Leaning up from him your nose drew a faint line up his bridge, feather-light lips setting against his forehead in a final show of unrequited adoration. With a breath your spine straightened, eyes strict in their effort to keep forward. There was no moment of hesitancy as you passed the threshold and left the Elite wing; if you had indulged in a final glance, you knew you’d have never left.

On the journey back to your room – head hung low, teeth rooted in an effort to stop the trembling of your bottom lip – you met a stiff wall of muscle as someone exited a room, your feet stumbling back before you completely fell backwards, landing on your tailbone. The room spun when you opened your eyes after hitting the floor, a gloved hand extending down and offering you assistance. Taking it, you looked up to find General Hux.

He looked as you did, exhaustion heavy in his features before he was struck by your identity. He didn’t recoil, though, pulling you up and even steadying you for a couple seconds. Hux’s eyes darted to the bandage on your forehead and quickly over your gown, narrowing only slightly when he appraised the red rims of your own. He remained silent, retracting his hand as he nodded once.

“Officer,” he acknowledged. “I heard about your fainting spell.” His tone lacked the animosity you had come to expect.

You took hold of the wall support, looking up at him, confused at his sudden civility. “Oh.” It was the best you could do right now.

Something about him seemed off. Even as he remained more guarded than most humans you knew, it appeared as though something had him worried. Maybe it was the fall out from Starkiller that had him acting out. He had just lost men.

“Is there an official count yet?” you asked, filling the silence.

Hux swallowed, the corners of his mouth dipping before he returned to his normal façade, his shoulder going up and back when his stance shifted. “Nice work during the transport.”

“Thank…you. Uh, thank you, General.”

Another nod and he turned away from you and walked out of sight. A crease bit at your brow. How strange. Or maybe it wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been less than favorable for the entire First Order. Nobody could be expected to be at their best right now. Or even at their normal.

Before you started down the hall, your periphery caught view of the room where Hux had come, your heart falling. Confusion was drowned by new concern. Talia was slumped into her shoulder, asleep while she sat upright, both arms resting at her sides to reveal bruises from multiple IV attempts. There was one line running from her left forearm which led up to a bag of fluids, the contents of which you couldn’t read from a distance.

Peaking around the hall, you ducked into her room and clicked the door shut with your back, keeping the volume to a minimum as to not wake her. It seemed like a week had passed since you saw her seize, Snoke’s men abducting you before you could aid in her care. It had been less than a full day.

Walking up to her right side you noted the oxygen secured over her ears, a nasal cannula delivering two liters per minute. Nothing excessive. That was good. But still curious. The fluid bag was filled with electrolyte replacement, another bag hanging empty behind it. Looking for more clues, you found the information board to be devoid of any recent updates, only indicating her nurse and the continuation of the current fluids. There was a check mark next to a note which read _sterile urine specimen, CBC, CMP_.

When you kicked your foot under her bed, swinging it mindlessly while holding onto the upper bed rail, something skidded beneath your sock. In a manner which didn’t stress your wounds, you knelt to the ground and picked up the item. It was a white square, shiny material which glinted under the harsh fluorescents. Holding one corner, it unfolded to reveal a second half. Turning it over, eyes blinking back to make sure you were reading the images correctly.

Everything was in the right spot, every label and measurement and identifier correct and official. Dropping completely to the floor, your legs splayed across each other, you peaked up at your friend and back to the printed picture multiple times, not knowing what to make of the situation.

Talia was pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It has been nearly a month, not quite, but I have missed you all so entirely too much to admit. This story is my heart, and sharing it means the world to me. I took my first exam of the semester this morning and wanted to finish this chapter so I could upload prior to going to my first maternal-newborn clinical rotation on Saturday.
> 
> During my time away I have had the opportunity to read many amazing works, whether they be one-shots on [tumblr](https://strongtwiheart.tumblr.com/) or ficlets right on A03. One that has evoked such a strong response in me has been [Three Blind Tooke](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655709/chapters/23580480) by ElmiDol. She is a beautiful soul with such a gift for storytelling. I have quickly fallen in love with this story and I hope to encourage many of you to do the same.
> 
> My plan for the semester and writing is to take one week writing and then take one week to read the stories that I want. I think this will provide the necessary balance needed for me to be successful in school while also creating and enjoying other creator's content. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this update and I hope to see you thoughts/feelings/reactions/theories/feedback in the comments!
> 
> Stay safe, be kind, and know you are worthy.
> 
> \- ST


	24. Prove it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend. A foe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

_Good afternoon,_

_I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well._

_The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties._

_Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner._

_The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial._

_Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner._

_Respectfully,_

_Karmen Zag, Esq.,_

_Head of Communications,_

_The Board of Physicians_

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself _Karmen Zag_. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. _I’m on call tonight_ was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you _had_ been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

 _Trusted_. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trust _ed_. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“ _Oh_! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you _hoped_ it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. _Armitage_. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was _Armitage_.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense _clinically_ ; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you _knew_.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you _how_ true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” _I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart_ , “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. _So_ weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He _complimented_ me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a _lot_ of men. But then it was _you_ in the room and I.. he was so _distraught_? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t _General Hux_. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so _evil_! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so _sorry_! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my _Master_! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- _felt_ real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… _fuck_.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you _knew_ the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. _You_ saved that patient. We both _know_ that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me _write_ it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was _sobbing_ in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; a cusp on adoration and hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just _knew_? For whatever reason, _this_ was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t _the General_. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “ _Armitage_.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out _General, oh please General_! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if _you_ were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… _Kylo_? That just feels downright _wrong_.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. _Ky_. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted _your_ insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its _daunting_ or _nonsensical_ or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “ _You_ are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you _can_. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been _dying_ for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. _You_ survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

 _Talia, I wish I could forget all of it_. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but _you_ are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I _am_.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of _I do not deserve this_ blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “ _Choose_ to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, _knew_ , that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its _hiss_ shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some _sleep_! And maybe just… _get some_ , you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. _Oh_. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. _Well. That’ll need clarifying_.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“ _Shit_ ,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “ _Fuck_!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of _stopped_.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: _superior_.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A _ping_ sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

_Concerning the defendant,_

_In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement_.

_Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process._

_In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been tabled. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…_

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it false; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to _give me more_? Prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look pretty good for a dead bitch.
> 
> Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.
> 
> I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).
> 
> Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.
> 
> \-- ST


	25. Take it Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good thing about rock bottom? You can only go up from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: PTSD, rape trauma.

The important things are always the most difficult to say; they come with that stomach-churning uncertainty that strikes through your skull and tightens your throat. The moment that first admission comes, though it may be the easiest, there is a lightness to your shoulders that you thought would never return. You knew this. Even so, when you told Mason of the event that preceded your escape from Starkiller, you were a shaking, petrified mess.

Now, sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes bloodshot from two days of crying, you listened to the rhythm of his breath. He was sleeping off the emotional exhaustion you had put him through. The night you had rang his residence had been the worst of it; you could barely speak for those first twelve hours, too preoccupied with thoughts of whatever suffering Kylo Ren had in store for you on Canto Bight, too scared of how Mason would react to the news that you had taken a life.

That second night he had your head pressed to his chest, patience warm in his hold, and you finally felt safe enough to tell him everything – Robbie’s involvement, his trespassing, the violation still singeing your veins. Tears framed every word, an eternal blotch forming on Mason’s shirt. He could take it all, and he did; no question or comment, only a hand stroking your back and cool breath blowing over your ear.

But that was not what you had been afraid to tell him. Of course it wasn’t. The fact that you had endured Robbie’s attack was a preface to words you had only spoken once before, and even then you’d believed they would remain only in your mind. A crushing guilt coiled around your rib cage, Mason shushing your sobs, a bitterness flooding your tongue.

Yes, Robbie had hurt you. Yes, Robbie had raped you. Yes, Robbie had permanently marked your life with the pain he had inflicted. You knew all of these things. They were undeniably true. A part of you, though, loud and overwhelming, was reluctant to let you rationalize your actions. In the hours you had spent in the medbay, and even now in the dark of early morning, you fought back the mentality of _a true healer does not kill_. _A true healer would have found another way_.

Staring Mason in the eyes, trying to make out his expression through a bleary view, you told him how you had no choice but to act in defense. Robbie was not going to stop; it was him or you. You told Mason how the lights went out and you clung to a life you were unsure if you wanted, only explaining that the scissors had hit the stormtrooper’s femoral artery with miraculous precision, not including how you felt the body-hot blood spurt across the backs of your hands. There was no mention of how you watched the tile beneath him bloom with crimson, not a word to describe how your skin buzzed when the door slid shut, leaving him to time.

Kylo Ren was nowhere to be found in your recount; Mason, even with the knowledge that you had taken someone’s life, was not ready to hear anything involving his commander or supreme leader. In keeping their involvement in the matter to yourself you were protecting him; Mason would get himself killed if he knew what was hidden beneath his hand-me-down pajamas. It was obvious in the way he would not allow you to be alone during these past two days that you he loved you. And you did love him; not the same as before, but enough to the point where sleeping in his arms was safe, not suffocating.

But even in their safety the nightmares still found you; it was uncertain if they would ever cease, and it worried you to think you were supposed to be broadcast to who knows how many planets in a matter of days. It was surprising that your lunge from the mattress had not woken Mason, a cold sweat encasing your body; he had only shifted, fingers reaching for your now absent form.

If you were relying on his alarm clock – which you were, the watch tight to your wrist still out of commission – it was cusping on three in the morning. These past three nights had supplied the most sleep you had gotten since fainting, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Mason had called out the past few days, explaining to Dr. Soto that he had a _family emergency_. When you had overheard him speaking on the phone, that detail had heated the tops of your ears. You had stayed in the bubble he’d provided since entering, but you needed to prepare for travel as in less than thirty-six hours you were going to be strapped into a transport ship and headed to your potential demise.

Maybe baselessly, you hoped that Kylo Ren’s quarters would be vacant at this time of day. In an effort to be as quiet as possible, you slipped on your shoes and shrugged into one of Mason’s scrub coats leftover from school. It was navy blue and still smelled of your old simulation lab. Even though he was smaller then, the sleeves crested the tips of your fingers. It was hard to believe Kylo Ren was even bigger than him.

The mattress creaked the moment you stood from it, a grimace tightening your cheeks in fear that you would wake your sleeping friend. But there was no sound to indicate Mason had stirred, and with that you went to look for your keycard. Thankfully one of your nurses had the thought to empty the pockets of your uniform before setting it aside, your Finalizer access key placed with what remained of your personal belongings.

The living area was difficult to navigate without light, the unfamiliar surroundings knocking into your knees and making you hiss curses. And then your heart fell.

Mason spoke your name from the room you had come from, grogginess thick in his voice. “What are you doing? It’s barely three-o-clock.” A light flicked on out of view, Mason stumbling into the room, arms stretched above his head. “You know, I have lights for a reason.”

“Sorry I woke you”—you continued your search—“I was trying not to make any noise, but I’m not used to your layout here.”

Mason shuffled closer. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m glad to see you upright. Just confused why you are at this hour.”

“I’m going to try and get my clothes from my residence. Have you seen my bag? The one I brought with me?”

“I put your bag through the wash,” Mason yawned, sauntering toward a drawer where he pulled out your keycard, “so all you brought is in here.” In the dark you saw a softness in the way he observed you, drawing closer with each step. “You don’t think they’ll hear you out in a pair of my sweats and—” he pinched the jacket’s collar, a smile forming when his eyes met yours “—this piece of history?”

The heat from his hand wafted under your chin, an amused huff leaving your nose. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind me borrowing it.” you took the keycard and pushed it into a pocket. “Thank you for washing my bag, by the way. And for letting me stay here. And for being… understanding. Of things.”

“I don’t want your thanks. We’re there for each other. It’s what we do.” He shook his head, folding his arms around you and pulling tight. “You were defending yourself. I know how you operate. Stop looking for ways to feel bad about this.” You did not respond, eyes closed, breath caught. “You did what you had to. I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”

“Mason, I’m scared. What if I can’t win this thing? What if this is all just for show and the Board is corrupt and I’m just another pawn in the First Order’s game?” You clung to him, swallowing tears.

“You really have no faith in my kickass public speaking skills, do you?”

“You’re not allowed to make me laugh one second after making me cry,” you pouted, smacking his back.

“Maybe I’ll start my testimony with how unthreatening you are.”

“I could take you down, McCarty. We both know that.”

“I’ll also mention how _delusional_ you are.”

“I think that white coat is getting to your head; what’s the basis of your diagnosis?”

Mason rubbed your back once more and pulled away so his fingertips could trail up and down your triceps. “Aside from the fact you think you could beat me in a fight,” a smirk tightened his face, one forming over your own, “you’re going into this with the worst in mind. You’re forgetting how smart you are. How likeable you are.” He swallowed. “You’re going to survive this.”

“And if I do, what then? My license is revoked if I _win_. What’ll I do with myself?”

Mason’s jaw twitched at its hinge, his eyes flicking between yours, something caught in his throat. His face was riddled with fluid thoughts, yet it was evident there was something holding them back. “We will… figure that out.”

A deep breath dropped your shoulders, time passing in the quiet. “Right now I just need to go pack, essentially.”

“I’ll come with you. Four hands will make the job quicker.”

Alarm sounded. That had to be the absolute worst idea in the galaxy. Mason did not know where you had previously resided – more importantly: he did not know who you’d resided _with_. “Oh, no. I want to take my time, you know? Gives me a while to think before…everything.” You tried to hide the vehemence of your rejection.

Mason sighed, leaning down, gentle hands cupping the base of your skull. He pressed his lips to your forehead, firm yet fast, and pulled away. A wave of warmth washed down your spine. His touch trailed away when he stepped over to activate the door. You stepped past the threshold and turned back to him, his stare almost yearnful.

“Be careful, got it?”

A slight, curious smile lifted your cheeks. “I literally murked someone with my own two hands, man.” Still a bit unsteady in making light of the situation, you thought he could use a laugh.

He made a pitiful attempt toward amusement; attention on the floor, fingers picking at themselves. “Well, just…promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Hey,” he looked back up, lips set firm. “I won’t be long. I’ll use my commlink if anything happens. I promise.” There was hesitance in his nod, concern excruciating in his features. You took one of his hands. “Get some sleep, okay?” Another weak nod. “ _Promise_ me?”

He relaxed by a small measure, jaw looser. “Yeah. Promise.”

Mason watched as you made your way down the hall and out of his view, your arms wrapping his jacket across your chest, feet quick in their journey. Most of your walk was spent in the residential maze, the monotony of your surroundings turning you around a few times. But when you made it out into the main functioning center, seeing multitudes of occupied hover-cots stationed one above the other, reality made itself obvious.

A hollow feeling of privilege brought your eyes down. There had been innumerous deaths from Starkiller, but there was a sadness in seeing what remained of those who’d escaped. So many lives were still in shambles, so many misplaced after their homes were destroyed. Though you had your own problems – looming or dealt with – you at least had never gone without a room or a friend, never without choosing to do so. Seeing their sleeping faces, knowing they would wake to another long day of unknowns, you wished to aid them in some way; a warm blanket, an open ear, someone to be quiet with. You would never have the opportunity, that knowledge enough to force your head down until you entered the Elite foyer.

A hand bumped into yours when you went to scan your badge, finding a less-than-prim General Hux.

“ _Oh_ ,” you gasped, ripping your hand away.

Hux looked down at you, a silent wish for your absence obvious in his face. He opened his mouth but shut it when he looked over your clothing, a pinch bringing his brows closer. “Cold, officer?”

You could not help but focus on the single piece of hair hanging over his forehead. He was usually so crisp, no wrinkles to his uniform, nothing out of order. But here he was, presumably returning to his quarters at three in the morning. How _curious_.

“Oh, not at all, General. And you?”

“Am I cold?” He would have sneered longer had the elevator not arrived. “No, not particularly.” He stepped past the threshold, a stark turn bringing him to face you again.

“Yeah, your face is just so red. No idea why I asked.” You would never endanger Talia by dropping her name. But a few tiny, otherwise baseless implications couldn’t harm anyone.

He paused, stunned by your candor. “What are you doing out at this hour?”

“What are _you_ doing out at this hour? Seems a bit early for board meetings.”

“There is only one board meeting you should be concerned with, _officer_.”

The door began to close. Adrenaline sparked in your chest, hand flinging toward the ID scanner, legs lunging across the frame; you stood next to the general, gripping the wall support and analyzing his horrified face.

“This is gross misconduct. I should have you-,”

“Gross misconduct is a tricky thing, I’ve found. But you wouldn’t know a thing about that, would you?”

His eye twitched. He was irritated. _Good_. “You’re not even worth it at this point.”

“What _ever_ are you referring to, General?”

“You don’t have many breaths left. It would be a waste of my own to write you up.” He was not looking at you, but rather at his obsidian-set reflection.

He was right, and that made this all the more fun; you could say whatever you wanted and it would not matter. He would always be against you. Why not play into it? “Don’t be too disappointed. You can always put it in your testimony.”

Hux dragged in a breath. “You are quite at ease with your death.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I’m at ease,” you sighed, the floor numbers shifting upward. “Not with dying, at least.”

His head craned to look at you, eyes narrowed, analyzing. “What, then?”

“Um,” you feigned disinterest, bringing a hand up to look at your nails. “My ease stems from the fact that I _know_ what my future holds.”

“What are you getting at, officer?” It was an insidious whisper, all too calculating.

The doors shifted open and your heart stopped; a familiar entryway came into view. When you last left here you did not think you would ever return. Swallowing, nerves trilling, you stepped away from Hux and into the unlit room. It was devastatingly quiet. _Vacant_ , you hoped, eyes closing with relief.

“I’ll see you at the initial hearing, General.” You did not turn around, only lifting a hand to wave him off, to listen as the doors shut and the shaft took him away.

It had never been a bright space, but now it seemed darkness was encroaching from every angle. There was something haunting in being here, something stabbing in the air. Similarly, it had never been warm, but a chill bit through to your bone; you were not sure if you imagined it, but a cloud of fog fell with each breath you took. In your absence these surroundings had accentuated only their worst traits; what surrounded you now was but a void framed in concrete walls.

Stepping into the main space, attempting toward stealth, the galaxy piercing that infinite pane of transparisteel stopped you. There had been a few times you had just leaned against it, observed; always finding comfort, sometimes even answers. Though, to contrast the cold and dark, the stars seemed dim, sparse; they were still, none chasing the others, stagnant but for a few fatal flickers.

No longer busied by the stars, you were met with the destruction that lay before them. Scarlet splinters framed the celestial background, metal strings curling upward, keys in chaos across the floor; the instrument that had enamored you in its beauty now a shattered echo of pain. The sight forced you forward, ebony dread slicing through your lungs. This was the work of someone crazed, lost in their rage; caged in it.

You tapped at your left wrist. Though you wished you could take all the time needed to piece the remains back together, time was wearing on; you needed to leave before the present damage had the possibility to be inflicted upon you. Jaw tight, hands clasped together and pulled over your sternum, you stalked to your door, noting your nameplate remained, cursing the hydraulics for being as loud as they were.

Once inside, nails biting into your palms at the second, closing _hiss_ , you opened your eyes to find that nothing had been touched since the last time you were here. The bed was untouched, sheets set in wrinkles, within them a past life. In the absence of light you ensured a silent gait, trailing a light hand over the bedding, ice beneath your fingertips. There were tear stains on your pillowcase, that night prior to departure inked into memory, a skip in your heart at the thought.

This was taking too long. There was no time to trip down memory lane. Things have changed; no use in mourning the unattainable. You shook your head, stepping over to the wardrobe and activating the door. Another _hiss_ clamoring into the fragile silence. Five scrub dresses remained in perfect shape, pressed and hanging at equal increments; you gathered them over your forearm and made do with that pillowcase, shoving them in to make space for undergarments.

You had forgotten they were there, tucked to the very back, uncovered when you mindlessly dragged every bra and pair of panties into your makeshift storage bag. For all intents and purposes they were gifted to you. _Allowed_ , really, but the only tangible piece of him he had offered so willingly. Kylo Ren’s socks had come to mean more than you’d ever imagined, and all you wanted was to forget the security they had once provided.

They were light in your hands, soft at first touch and as they unfolded onto your wrists. Eyes shut, breath slow, you brought the pair to your cheek; an ache flickered in your chest, a yearning for something so far away. It was in moments like these where you remembered you were but a messenger in all of this heartbreak. Snoke had delegated his damage, had weaponized you, used you as he was Kylo. It burned to the very pits of your soul, buzzed in your teeth, stung at your eyes. That _creature_ had this planned from the beginning, from the very day you had stepped foot in this room.

“ _Vile_ waste of breath,” you shuddered, spit splitting off at the bite.

Suddenly, spine lit to the tips of your fingers, you remembered the contents of the bedside table at your back. Fury lit your stride, hands electric with hatred, tearing the drawer open and scraping up the letter. A thumb crushed dimples into the stiff paper, whole body shaking; face heated, twisted with a rage that could only be quenched by unleashing it on Snoke’s untouchable existence. You readied to shred the correspondence, swallowing a scream, trembling with wrath; it fell from your grip before you could, though, landing face-up between your feet.

Just like that your resolve toward destruction crumbled, your hands reaching for it and bringing it just inches from your face. It was real: that pointed script, too delicate for the hand from which it’d come. It dipped under your finger, the pressure of Kylo’s grip present in the scrawl. So powerful; so delicate. It was as impossible as he was. But what more could you do but stand here and admire it in secret and lightlessness?

The worn letter and the pair of socks were tucked into a jacket pocket, the packed pillowcase over your shoulder. You were ready to go, never to return here again. This time that would be true. A swallow, a breath, and a shiver preceded your fingers reaching to activate your door. Another too-loud _hiss_ , another moment spent with closed eyes. It was quieter, now, less invasive; and you might have brushed it off and not questioned it. _Might have_ ; eyes opening to an expanse of taut muscle, tiny moles and freckles embellishing it along his healing wounds.

The belongings hanging over your back met the ground, a soft _thud_ barely audible through the incessant beating – _pounding_ – of your heart. Again you were stalled in thought, not knowing how to proceed, not seeing a way out of this that wasn’t messy or complicated. He knew everything that was never intended for him, he heard your tear-framed words; yet he met you with vacancy, walked past you those days ago and _taunted_ you with the pain you’d poured out to him.

“Commander Ren,” you cleared your throat, his focus set on the bag at your feet, “I needed clothes for Canto Bight.” Narrowed eyes met yours, a long stride leading you back in the room. “I was just leaving.”

“You were.” The door closed behind him. “We’re past pleasantries; you know my name. Use it.” A snarl ghosted his face, possessive eyes fixated on Mason’s navy coat, his voice a deep velvet.

Another step back, mouth drying with each second, your hand toyed with a jacket fastener. Every muscle of his was tensed, jaw tight and shoulders paced to purposeful breaths. Transparent bacta dressed his abdominal wound, its borders creasing with every step he took. He did not limp; in fact, he seemed otherwise healed given he’d been unconscious just over a week ago.

“Kylo,” you gulped, “Kylo I can’t do this. You know that.”

One more step forward, drawstrings swaying at his waist. “I know what I heard.” He was still focused on your jacket, eyes darting across it in calculation.

“So let me leave here. Let me at least try and survive this.”

“I’m not keeping you here. Go now, if it’s what you want.”

The heel of your shoe hit the bedside table. There was nowhere left to run. He was close, staring down at you, sole concentration not shifting. The air was thick, time pressing on, heat splintering down your back. He had to be lying. It was a trap, surely.

“Fine,” you pressed a weak hand just under his right rib, “excuse me, then.” He allowed you past him, staying in place as you collected your spilled belongings.

“ _Only_ if it is what you want.” His voice boomed off the walls.

Your hand stalled over the activator. “What are you saying?”

“You talked a lot about choices. It brought me to the realization that you have never made one for yourself,” a low hum, consideration, “maybe one.”

“That’s a low blow coming from someone who slaughters whole villages without a second thought,” you barked, fire lighting over your tongue. You turned to face him, his stance unchanged. “I told you those things thinking you couldn’t hear me. And now because of some Force fuckery, coma-adjacent bullshit you’re rubbing them in my face.”

“You think I’m insulting you for killing an enemy?” Kylo’s hair shook at his shoulders when he turned to face you again, his eyes now on yours. “You’re more confused than I thought.”

“ _Wow_. Yes, I _want_ to go. It’s a better option than staying here and listening to how stupid I am.”

“You convict yourself. Do not believe otherwise.”

“Fucking- _what_ are you talking about?”

He crossed the room, stopping a stride away. He observed you through a perspective solely known to him. “I never questioned your intelligence. I never gave a second thought to the death of that stormtrooper. But you’ve done both of these in excess. You are your own worst enemy.”

Thoughts scrambled to form, defenses weak against his logic. “And _your_ worst enemy sits on a throne while you do his bidding,” an unbridled, bitter laugh rang around the room, “He’ll probably worm into your head later and see all of this. And _I_ will be the one who suffers.”

Metal clanged the back of your skull, an icy hand locked tight to your throat. “You are acting recklessly,” Kylo hissed your name, “you’ll suffer sooner by your own hand than the supreme leader’s. Sooner than mine.”

“That seems- improbable,” you strangled out, scraping your nails against his wrist.

The pressure lightened, blood rushing through your head. He kept his hand in place, heavy breaths shifting under his grip. His eye twitched, that black-set scar moving with it. The weight of his fingers shifted lower, spanning the width of your chest, thumb preoccupied with the jacket collar’s edge.

“Always the physician,” he breathed, voice so low you were unsure if you were meant to hear it.

“Mason has never hurt me.” It was an immediate answer, Kylo’s brows knitting, more in thought than in pain. “I trust him.”

His throat bobbed, cool black suffocating the warmth of his irises, a petrified pause stuck between him and you. “Do you want to leave here?”

“Wha- _yes_! I’ve been trying for the past-,”

“Without considering McCarty. Without considering the supreme leader,” he swallowed, “without considering me.” A certain loneliness glinted just beyond the eyes that studied yours, breathtaking and frightening, heart-stopping the longer you peered back at it. “Only thinking about yourself.”

“What, Kylo?”

His hand left you now, Kylo leaning away and standing back. He observed you; surely his eyes had never rested. “Do _you_ want to leave here? Is that what _you_ want?”

“Why would that make it any different?” There was no sense to this game, no point you could see.

“If there’s any truth to what you said, you’ll do as I say.”

Something broke within your chest when he spoke these words. _If_. He had heard you; he’d heard everything. But it had not undone the damage Snoke had caused. “You think I was faking that?” you whispered, numbness growing with the lack of response he offered. “Why would I lie to someone I thought couldn’t _hear_ me? Why- _why_ would I- I _cried_ , I told you everything and you still think Snoke has noth-,”

Kylo locked his lips to yours, every word you were going to say disappeared, every thought you might have spoken lost to him. He was furious in his effort to keep you close; nails bit at your scalp, a bare chest warmed your skin, strong legs framed yours. He was all but lifting you from the ground. This urgency claiming his every move kept you from making any of your own, arms limp at your sides, nothing to protest this advance.

It felt _right_. That was all you knew. He felt _good_ , like nothing would ever compare to him. Though you tried to feel guilty about it, attempted to pull away when images of Mason and Snoke fleeted in and out of thought – you couldn’t. This was what you wanted. _This_ is what you wanted. This is what _you_ wanted.

His hands were bound to you, your own clasping around his wrists, slowing him until still. The two of you warmed the other’s cheeks with quick, needy breaths. With your head tipped up to his, the cradle of his fingers still firm, you opened your eyes; in the black of night, not a viewport around, there were stars before you, dim and scarce, but _there_.

“No,” you pled, “no. My answer is no.” The tip of your nose nudged his bottom lip, breath stalled in his lungs. “No, I don’t want to leave here. Kylo, I don’t want to leave.”

A slow attack was made to press your lips to his; first kissing a corner, then teething at his bottom lip, and finally finding his in full. Your hands trailed up his arms and framed his face, his own tearing that jacket from your arms like it was his mortal enemy, just as fiercely pulling your top above your head to uncover your breasts. Chills ignited your back only to die when the heat of his hold trailed down your spine and hooked into the waistband of your pants.

The second you stepped out of the sweats you clung to his neck and attempted to wrap your legs around him, a quiet grunt coughed from his throat when you grazed his abdominal wound. It stalled you for a moment, a fragment of time spent checking to see if he was okay. It surprised you when you found the grunt didn’t appear to be from pain, but from _want_.

“You liked that?” you whispered, a lasciviousness edging the genuine concern in your voice.

Kylo hiked your leg over his wound, clutched it to him and held you there. His mouth was ardent over your artery, teeth trailing down so his lips could press into the tops of your breasts. He was so big, every part of him was massive and capable and you knew that you would give him what he wanted, and for some reason you knew – maybe if just right now – he would give you the same.

The room moved, spun, the bed growing closer. His pants fell with the help of your heels kicking them down. His hair was soft to the touch, your lips pressing to the midnight strands over his temple. He laid down, your legs straddling his waist, a pulse beating against your left inner thigh. Warmth spread below, a dark red flaring even in the surrounding shadows. It was so familiar, too similar to ignore.

Blood pooling. Red. A man beneath you, a conqueror. Darkness. The scar over his face a mirror of what you’d given Robbie, something sinister creeping onto your shoulders, a sense of doom. A mirage of tremors around you, the world unsteady in an instant. Screams. Screaming so loud, everything was _so loud_.

“I can’t do this. No, no, I can’t do this. It’s too much, I can’t-,”

A hand pulled you down, lips just missing yours, security obvious in the hold. “He took something from you,” Kylo drawled, a hand guiding your eyes to his. He kept you steady in his stare for a number of seconds, an eloquent silence punctuating the _order_ that next left him. “Take it back.”

It felt like you had been permitted to let go, like Kylo Ren’s words had freed you from the cell you’d been living in since that day. A tear formed and fell, sinking into the black binding over his cheek. You kissed it, and then his nose, and then found his lips again; the tip of your tongue slid past his teeth and flicked along the side of his, flutters forming in your belly.

Kylo’s hands left your neck and came down to your hips, a thumb brushing over his flesh-set signature; it prompted you to sit up, to look down at him through strands of mussed hair. His cock slid along your slit, slick easing the motion. When his tip caught on your clit he shifted his hips, forcing upward and erupting shocks along every inch of your skin. A moan sent your head back, Kylo grunting with pleasure, your hips shifting along his length.

He captured your stare, the head of his cock lining up with your entrance; he was offering you the chance to right so much wrong, to do exactly what he had told you – to take back what you had lost. There was a patience so slight that only the trained eye could recognize. Several breaths preceded the courage it took to let yourself go, to feel connection and not fear when you lowered onto him.

The man below you shuddered, the wound now at your knee still contained, the blood from earlier all a trick of your mind. To have him seated so deep inside you, to feel him solid, warm, and real beneath you – it created this sense of peace. Like nobody could take this from you, like this was a gift. One of you physically, the other inwardly – you were both healing. Your hips rocking against him, tiding with his own, panting filling the room and sweat humidifying the air, you realized this was the first moment since getting that early morning alarm for Jakku that you had felt completely at ease.

There were things you were still uncertain of – the trial, Talia’s situation, Mason, Snoke – but, for now, you chose to set them aside. Tears stopped forming but still streamed past your chin, wetting your breasts before him. Kylo caught one that had slipped down your sternum, massaging it into his thumb before pressing the pad of the digit past your lips. A groan flourished from him when you bit at his joint, sucking the salty tear from his skin, feeling his dick grind against that sensitive spot with every thrust of his hips that met your own.

You pulled his thumb from your mouth and positioned his hand over your tit, grabbing for his other and placing it on the opposite. He pawed at the flesh, his head tipping back into the mattress, jaw tight and teeth gnashed. Wet sounds squelched with each bounce, grinding circles onto him and watching pleasure build, a vibrant flush swelling atop his chest.

Just when you thought he would finish you felt the buzzing pressure of the Force right over your clit, hitting it perfectly. A loud, unapologetic squeal escaped, your hands squeezing over Kylo’s, the two of you moving in a synchronicity you had only ever known possible with him. Release budded in your belly, stretched down your thighs, and reached the very tips of your toes, blood singing for him. Kylo’s hands were no doubt marked into your tits now, his fingers forming fists, climax ripping through him with a series of building breaths. He fucked up into you through his orgasm, spend spilling out onto your thighs.

His chest was expansive, yet still wounded, a gentleness leading you down to rest upon it. You kept his hands in yours, holding onto them at either side, no resistance from him. Kylo wrapped his fingers around your left wrist, lifting it out of sight, curious movements tracing along the region. It barely registered; you were not cognizant of time, only knowing that you were here with him right now. It is what you wanted. It is what you chose.

A sound – digital, high-pitched – beeped at your left, the room bathed in a dull red a second later. The face of your watch was lit, eyes squinting at its concentrated brightness. You held up your arm, an elbow propping you up on his chest. The red dot rested at the center of your radar, the sight leaving you with an unexpected relief.

The time read _05:03_ in the corner, a sigh leading your head to his chest, eyes closing in reluctance. “I told Ma-,”

“You don’t want to leave,” Kylo murmured, his breath slowing with each minute.

He was right. Mason would understand; he would have to.

“No,” you kissed the scar beneath your lips, “I want to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my patient, understanding readers. It is great to be posting this tonight. I start the last two weeks of my semester tomorrow and I wanted to have this out before the end of November. Maybe not what you expected, but I hope it sufficed after five weeks. AND it's even a Sunday. Going back to my roots haha.
> 
> My final final exam is December 17th and I do not believe I will be doing much writing between now and then or even now and the end of the year. So, if that is the case and I do not end up posting in December - I wish you all a happy holiday season and a bright - hopefully BETTER - New Year. 
> 
> Be kind. Take care of you FOR you. Good luck on your finals to those who have them <33
> 
> \-- ST


	26. Trust Me First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, not all that glitters is gold.

The world around you was a chorus of golden wealth. The glorious city declined into an azure bay, the rising sun sparkling crescent-shaped ripples along the vast expanse of water. It was just past dawn in Canto Bight, and your heart had been enchanted by the divinity that it welcomed you with. The transport shuttle had offered no insight into direction, only a scrollbar reading off your estimated time of arrival. The minutes dwindled until you heard the exit ramp descend and felt a foreign warmth rapture you with rays of majesty; only when you had to think for a moment did you realize – no sun, no star had warmed you in the past four years, and never had it met you with the gentleness that currently kissed your skin.

“How is this real?” you whispered, the bag in your hand slipping free to your feet.

There was so much to take in. All that surrounded you were concrete structures with domed tops, gold accents glinting with early morning, luxury gleaming at you in every direction. This was a world wholly unknown to you; it made you feel small, shrunk you and towered over your ego.

Engines whirred behind, the water’s patterned swells whooshing only a short distance away. Opulence filled each breeze, grandiosity evident even in the way the stones set beneath your feet. Every step you took, face gilded in sunlight, you kept yourself from acknowledge why you were here. Cantonica was more beautiful than any planet you had ever known; it hardly mattered that it held the probable fate of being the last.

“I have that same thought every time I visit,” Mason said, stepping beside you and placing his bag by his feet. “I haven’t been here since the break between our third and fourth year at the academy.”

“When you brought - what was her name? Clara? Home to your parents after knowing her for a grand total of two minutes?”

He sucked his cheek and shook his head, turning his face down and meeting you with feigned exasperation. “Her name was Kara, first off, and I knew her for more than two minutes-,”

“Okay, fine. _Ten_ minutes. And that’s being generous.”

“Hey!” Mason nudged you with his elbow. “She was fun,” his eyes trailed to the side, an eyebrow lifting in remembrance, “yeah, Kara was _really_ fun.”

“I remember how fun she was,” you laughed, arms crossed to your chest, “especially that night you hid in my dorm because she wouldn’t accept the breakup you gave her.”

Mason’s past-drunk eyes went wide. “Yeah, well,” he rejoined the present, “Canto Bight isn’t home, anyway. My family owns various properties here, but we would only ever use them for vacationing.”

“Ah, I see,” you rolled your eyes, turning back to the ship when it finally shut off, “it’s easy to forget you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“Born with the silver spoon, worked for the white coat.”

Only now did you realize the auburn undertones of Mason’s short, soft hair; the gentle breeze seemed to know him, embracing him with familiarity. Tendrils swept behind his ears. It rarely occurred to you to think of him as wealthy; you figured if he never brought it up, neither would you. It was never a factor in your relationship. He was always just _Mason_ , not _Mason McCarty, trust fund_.

Although, with the soft planes of his face contoured with radiance, a navy pullover clinging to his lean torso with every sigh of wind, it was difficult not to notice how at ease he was. You had spent years fawning over him in school, silently admiring each detail of his face. Here he was in technicolor, features defined in a brilliance you had never seen. He was quite handsome, and his presence provided the reassurance that you would not be so alone in the end.

“Mason?” you whispered, your resolve to not think about the trial slipping.

Like he’d been reaching for it before you spoke, he claimed your hand and squeezed three times. “We’re just visiting here. We’ll be off of this planet in three weeks.”

You swallowed, shivering fear away for now and settling in his confidence. “Maybe I’ll stay. It’s nice here.”

“It really is.” A broad smile found Mason’s cheeks; bright, and full of curious hope. “I’m sure we could stay here for a while if you wanted. A couple years maybe.”

“Well you’ll be in your residency with Soto for the next four years, so I don’t think you’d be here with me.”

“Canto Bight has one of the best physician residencies available. When I told Soto about taking leave for the trial, he talked to me about it.”

“Oh, Mason I would never expect you to uproot your life for me.”

There was a chilling certainty in his next words, his voice stern when he said, “the only thing that would ever uproot my life would be you not being in it.”

Not that you knew how, taken aback by the intense eyes staring down at you, you attempted to respond with at least a small measure of coherency, but were promptly interrupted by approaching footsteps – heels clicking against patterned stone.

“I hope your journey here was comfortable!” a nasally voice called from behind.

A woman beamed at you when you turned, her hand extended for a handshake. A chaos of red curls was fashioned into a toppling bun at her crown, a pair of bright blue eyes sparkled atop her full cheeks. She stepped in quick strides, her short legs lengthened by midnight purple pumps, an emerald wrap dress hugging her hips and swaying with her gait. The morning glowed off of her olive skin, your eyes momentarily drawn to the pendant resting in her sternal notch – a gold medic crest hung from a delicate chain, light glinting off the circular border that each of the six stems clung to.

You dropped Mason’s hand and took hers, cold fingers clasping around yours. It was shocking how such a petit person could have such a crushing grip.

“Yes, the trip was pretty uneventful. Wish there were more windows, though,” you replied, trying your hardest not to shake your hand free of pain when released.

“Oh, I totally understand! The shuttles are designed for your privacy, I assure you, and that unfortunately means fewer pretty views and more industrial interiors.” She shook Mason’s hand with the same enthusiasm, his jaw clenching when she did. “It’s nice to finally meet you both in person.”

“Have we spoken before?” you asked.

“Oh, shoot! I’m so sorry. I always forget that communicating over email is not the same as personally introducing myself. I’m-,”

“Karmen Zag.” The realization dried your mouth out and tunneled your vision. You had not necessarily conjured any image of her in the few times you had communicated, but you had never expected someone so warm and welcoming. Thinking of it, perhaps it was not that surprising; she was the Head of Communications for the Board of Physicians – a messenger for all intents and purposes. You had been a messenger as well, and though you understood Karmen had more choice in that title, you wished the recipient of your message had considered _your_ identity before marking you as an enemy.

Zag nodded, gesturing her hands out in a half-bow. “At your service. Now, we should get you settled in. A lot has to happen between today and your initial hearing and I’m sure you would like time to get unpacked and oriented before all the craziness.”

“Why would she need to unpack _here_?” Mason was quick to speak, motioning toward the rather grand building behind Karmen.

Karmen’s face pinched in a tight smile, hands clasping in front of her. “Given the nature of your position”—she addressed you before Mason—“and considering recent events, my team and I decided it was imperative for the providers to remain near their masters.”

“And, and I’ll be staying here?”

You had forgotten to take in your immediate surroundings before you got lost in the distant views, realizing you had thought this was the Board’s headquarters. Taking a closer look and a moment to think, a confusing thrill spread over your body. Since Zag’s first correspondence you had imagined staying in a grey cell and being locked up during the majority of your time here. Every sleepless night you had spent in the medbay had brought images of a monotone jumpsuit, imagining either a dull black or an obnoxious orange, wondering at times if it would carry that same red embroidery stitched over your left breast. Those beliefs were snuffed out by the luxury that surrounded you.

“The First Order has these grounds maintained for any official business held in the city,” Karmen’s hand brushed over a trimmed hedge that acted as molding for a solid stone fence; beige was bordered with cream masonry, the First Order’s insignia carved into the top of each spaced post. “It’s so quaint, don’t you think?”

_Quaint_ was the last word you would have chosen. Magnificent, unbelievable, awe-inspiring – these were more along the lines of what surrounded you, and they barely did any of it justice.

Flora of all blooms and hues sprouted seemingly out of nowhere, banks of delicate iris and screaming fuchsia spilling onto patterned stonework. Erect in the middle of the expansive courtyard was a three-tiered fountain, ribbons of water spilling over intricate carvings and emptying into a cupped base – a border of gilded palomellas, everlillies, and purple passions swirling upward and pooling toward the ground below. On either side of the fountain were black and burgundy stonework of your allegiance’s symbol, each emblem at least eight paces wide and long.

Every indulgent detail framed the three-story structure. The entryway spanned the first two levels, a durasteel door claiming the lowest, a conjunct plane of black-paned transparisteel taking the second; it seemed to split the construct, suggesting there were two mirrored living spaces within. Curved balconies bowed out from both sides of the second level, a stone railing protruding from each in an “S” shape, the top swirl tighter than the obtuse bottom. Cascades of vines fell over the entryway staircase, light brick visible only behind the verdant veil, ivory blossoms off-setting black thorns along each stem.

It was all so much, _too_ much to take in at once, even more hidden behind the structure as two paths split off toward the back. There were four stormtroopers that you could see, two spread apart at the fence where you stood, the other pair at either of the staircase’s posts. Movement in your periphery revealed a fifth guard roaming the roof. This place was much more than Zag’s descriptor of _quaint_. This was political. This was an embassy.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s quaint.” Reflected waves ebbed along the second-story glasswork, the surrounding beauty once again capturing you.

“Hm,” Karmen shrugged, lips pursed in consideration, half-turning to glance the construct again, “maybe ‘homey’ is a better word for it?”

In the absence of her stare you found Mason’s, his just as wide-eyed and aghast as your own. If this place was homey, what else did Canto Bight have in store? Where the hell did she live to consider this political fortress quaint?

Sadly, seeing the approval-seeking eyes she shot back at you, there would be no convincing her otherwise.

“Yeah. Homey is… well it’s definitely a word, I’ll tell you that.”

Her thumb and forefinger pinched at her pendant, a giggle sparkling off of her lips. “It is _so_ homey! C’mon, I’ll show you to your dwellings.” She waved her right arm and in an instant the bag at your feet was lifted, one of the ‘troopers carrying it toward the entryway.

“Wait a minute,” Mason said, irritation edging his tone, no stormtrooper coming to take his luggage, “wouldn’t it make more sense for her to board with me?”

“Mason, it’s fine. You’ve got your own place and now I won’t be imposing on it.”

He _glared_ at you, angry at your statement – angry at you? His nostrils flared and you swore you felt heat rush up his body. Mason faced Karmen again, blinking away the attitude he had given you, voice full of restraint when he spoke.

“I just figured since I’m the only one in the entire legal party who will be testifying in her favor that it would be implied that we stay together throughout this process.”

“Mr. McCarty, I recognize your concerns, but at this time it is important,” she smiled at you when she said your name, “stay near her master should his state of wellbeing decline.”

“I don’t care about her _master_!”

“ _Mason_ ,” you seethed.

“I’m so sorry that you are distressed by the news of her placement here, but I assure you-,”

“What can _you_ assure me of? What? You’re a, you’re the _head of communications_? What- you hold no claim here!”

“Mason, stop it!” What the hell had gotten into him?

“No,” he rasped, now pointing a finger at Zag, “no, I’m not leaving until I get an actual explanation as to why you have to stay here.”

“She gave you one. Commander Ren is my assigned master until the end of this trial. I go where he goes. That’s the explanation.” You tried to give Karmen a smile that said: _I’m so sorry about this jerk who I have never met a day in my life_.

He pointed that finger toward you now. “If that’s so true, where is he now? Why aren’t you with him right now? Why didn’t we travel with him?”

Your focus fell to the finger in your face, eyebrows pinched in a quiet fury before meeting Karmen with a face full of forced contentment. “I’ll meet you inside in a minute. Promise.”

She nodded at you and then Mason, not a single moment spent without a nauseating smile on her face.

You turned back to the jackass masquerading as your friend, clutching his finger and bending it backward. He winced. It pleased you.

“What is wrong with you today?” You wanted to punch him in the shoulder. You _wanted_ to smack him across the face; maybe then he would get some sense knocked into him.

He wouldn’t look at you, his hand stroking at the injury you had threatened. “I thought this would all be very different from what it’s turned out to be.”

“Well it’s not. Get used to it.”

Mason’s lips jutted out, his focus still on his hand. He shook his head and said nothing.

“I should not have to police you. Not ever, but especially when it comes to the people here, to Zag – who, since it’s obvious you have forgotten, is directly involved in my trial process and holds the power to tank my chances at winning.”

“I understand.”

“Do you really? Because I have never seen you act so, so _mean_ , so _awful_ to someone before,” he finally peered back up at you, the forest of his irises flooded in black guilt. “You need to tell me what has you acting so weird. Ever since I woke up on the Finalizer you’ve been… it’s just obvious something is bothering you.”

“How do you expect me to act when you disappear for a week after surviving an explosion that killed thousands of workers? Or when you come back at nine in the morning when you told me you were only picking up clothes and would call me if anything happened?”

“Nothing happened!” you answered a tad too quickly, too loudly. “I told you I would call you if something happened, and it didn’t.” _Nothing happened that you need to know about_ , was the full truth, but, again, he did not need to know about it. “I don’t deserve the third degree for falling asleep at my own residence.”

To be quite honest, you had not thought about that morning since it occurred. There were too many questions surrounding the event that you had time for, and you knew overanalyzing it would steal some of its tenderness. For now, all you knew, or cared to regard, was the fact that you had woken up in an empty bed that had previously been filled yet again; your watch remained in working order since its timely reactivation; and Kylo Ren was supposedly training in the Force. Whatever that entailed. _Whoever_ that entailed.

His words from that night haunted you; he had given no real answer, no matter how much you enjoyed being with him. _If there’s any truth to what you said_. It made you want to cry, to see how deeply you had broken his trust that he would believe your stinging tears to be a twisted form of feigned empathy. You could not shake the feeling that he trusted Snoke more than you, and you did not know how to begin refocusing that trust on yourself.

Mason bit at his lower lip, something aching behind his eyes, something he was holding onto. “I’ll apologize to Karmen the next chance I get. I’ll call you tonight after you’re settled. Right now is- ever since you- all I—” he took a steadying breath “—I want to know you’re safe, is all.”

“There’s probably over a dozen guards surrounding us right now. I will be okay, Mason.”

He grabbed his bag and scanned his badge on the transport shuttle and the door descended. “And I’ll call to make sure of that.”

There was something he wasn’t saying. Mason had never been one to keep things from you, but you could not shake the feeling that a flood of unspoken words stood between you.

“Are you sure this isn’t about something else? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Mason swallowed, a dull smile barely met his eyes, his expression distant when he turned at the top of the ramp. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later.”

“Mason-,”

The shuttle interrupted you, door shutting before it lifted from the ground and roared above; it fled past you, its destination somewhere in the center of the city, much further from the coast. You watched it until it grew too far in distance, a long sigh at the sight. Now you were confused; you wanted to be mad at him, but you felt sorry. For what exactly, you did not know. Mason was one of the few people you had left; you could not afford to lose him.

As you headed toward the foyer you noted a strand of color in the fountain’s mist, a rainbow that danced into your eyes when you passed by. Everything seemed grander the closer you got, the windows growing in height, the third story so far from the first it sent your head back. The durasteel door had been welded with numerous frames, the attention to detail much greater than any you had seen before. Every fine accent added to the looming cloud of insecurity forming overhead.

You stopped before the guards, their white uniforms differing from those you’d seen only by the thin gold band raised around their right wrists. _This place was thorough_. In one synchronized motion, the two men tapped at those gold bands. The door slid open; it was quiet and almost leisurely, almost silent.

“Transmitters,” you realized, squinting at them before Karmen waved you up the stairs.

She stood in the center of the main landing, the room empty save for a circular table of buffed white marble, an abstract chandelier reflecting off the surface from its position above. You felt like being here was a crime; it scared you to touch anything, like you would cause something to self-destruct with the graze of your fingers.

“So, if since this isn’t the Board’s headquarters, when am I supposed to…”

“We’ll go over the specifics later this afternoon, for now I have it down that you will be oriented to the grounds,” Karmen caught herself, “well, to your half, anyway.”

“My half?”

“Yes, you will stay in the adjunct to Commander Ren’s quarters, miss Harper will be staying in the adjunct to General Hux’s.” She began toward a hallway, a few people, who you could only assume to be staff, bustled in and out of view.

“I’m sure this isn’t your typical routine.”

“Hm, what do you mean?”

“Just,” you gawked at the passing artwork hanging on the wall, following close behind her but far enough to be unnoticed, “this _place_. I’m sure you’re more used to escorting clients to holding cells and not high-security villas.”

“Under normal circumstances, you _would_ be held at the headquarters during the duration of your trial. Due to the nature of the provider program, and obviously with everything that happened with Starkiller”—Karmen shot you a short pout, the gesture did not slow her stride in the slightest—“I knew it was important for you to be in proximity to your master. Also considering your record – which turned up squeaky clean in the five times my team ran it through multiple systems – you aren’t considered a flight risk.”

“Yeah, I try not to get myself into too much trouble. Obviously, sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“ _Obviously_!” Karmen bellowed the word in a hearty laugh; she threw her head back when she met a staircase and ushered you past her, red curls bouncing with amusement. “I guess you’ve found humor in all of this, then?”

You had not meant it as a joke. More so a snide comment that you probably should have kept to yourself. The hair at the nape of your neck stood stick-straight the longer she indulged herself. Someone who was on your side, or even neutral for that matter, would not agree so vehemently that you had fucked up. You made a note to tread more lightly in the days to come; this was not a place, nor were these people, you could be yourself around.

That actually reminded you of something. “I know you said we would discuss the details later, but when am I meeting with the representatives? To choose to defend me, I mean. When will that be?”

“Yes, we will discuss details later and you will be provided with multiple calendars and a chip for that watch you have – which, makes life so much easier for me, you have _no_ idea – but generally everything will begin _after_ your official hearing. I’m sure you’ll want to form a first impression of the Board prior to deciding who will be defending you against them.”

“And all of them are employed by the Board?”

“Yes, ma’am!” She gave you a painful grin and stopped in a small, private foyer.

A purple-passion emerged from a vase, small rojos bordering the blossom. It seemed to glitter even in the scant overhead light. A mini projector, not even the length of your pinky, placed your last name at eye level, _Commander Ren_ sprawled a small measure higher. Two seamless doors mirrored each other at opposite sides of the entryway, neither one grander than the other.

“You should report here by-,”

“Twenty-two hundred, right?”

“Yes! How’d you know?”

“Previous knowledge of Commander Ren’s preferences. You pick up pretty quickly what’s expected.”

Karmen nodded; it became apparent the only expression she would ever give was one of sickening pleasantness. “Good then, that’s one less thing to explain. Oh! Before I forget, I received word that your master should be arriving soon.”

“I’ll know when.” The pad of your thumb rolled over the face of your watch, a hopeless comfort in the device.

“Great. Now, again, we will go over the specifics _later_. Get into the nitty gritty of your work schedule and the unit you are on, the nurse you will be under. _Stars_! You are going to absolutely _love_ her! I already know it. She was actually the top candidate for your replacement before things changed.”

“Oh, that’s-,”

“And then I’ll talk to you a little bit about the expectations about appearance and timeliness. All that fun stuff. Oh, and then I’ll talk to you about CB-7070 and how that will pertain to your time here.”

Nausea bubbled deep in your stomach. A stormtrooper that reports all your comings, goings, and happenings to General Hux. Maybe you had not forgotten so much as you’d kept yourself from confronting it. It did not affect you to interact with stormtroopers in general – when they were off on whatever assignments they had, they did not bother you. But this one would be your shadow; it would observe and report. Whoever it would be held the power, just as Karmen did, to end your life. Not direct, but insidious; sneaking, skulking. One wrong move and you would end up dead.

“CB-7070… where is he now? Isn’t he supposed to be watching me at all hours?”

“You passed her on the way inside, actually. And-,”

“Her?”

“She is stationed at the front steps. Either left or right. I can’t remember. I just met her this morning. Sweet girl, very dedicated to her position.”

A small wave of relief shivered down your arms. You had already met her, essentially. That was half the battle. She had not spoken a word to you or made any move to touch you; she had pretended you barely existed and that fact instilled in you an unexpected calmness.

Then something dawned on you. “Shouldn’t she be stationed near me when I’m here? Why isn’t she, y’know, following my every footstep?”

For a millisecond Karmen’s eyes dipped to her wrist, a sparkling analogue timepiece ticking away. She spoke distractedly and began stepping backwards toward her next task. “So long as you are on these premises, you are presumed accounted for by the staff; CB-7070 will resume her station at the steps.” Zag nearly trotted toward the stairs. “Sorry, I have to run! Get settled, unpack. I will alert you five minutes before I arrive to talk specifics!”

Her voice echoed as she zipped down the stairs. She had cleared the first landing when you realized you didn’t know which room was yours. Or the means in which to enter it. The names projected on the wall gave no hint toward ownership, and there was no mechanism on either glossy black surface that resembled a lock.

“Hey, which one is my room? How am I supposed to get into it?” you shouted, listening to the waning click of her heels.

“You, too!”

It would be a gamble, then. Assuming these doors were like those on the Finalizer, you would have access to both yours and Kylo’s. With that assumption, you made a second: yours would be to the right.

You took a step forward and searched for any access point. Aimlessly, of course; there were no cameras to look into for facial recognition, the projector did not _ding_ when you swiped your badge across it. All that resided on the door was the reflection of your confused, frustrated expression. You slid both hands over the bordering walls. Nothing worked.

“I need a user guide for this thing,” you sighed.

Exasperated after five minutes of guessing, you considered the one thing you had been avoiding. Everything here, even these doors, looked too fragile and techy for anything good to come of touching them. But it seemed to be the only option left.

With a delicate hand and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you pressed against the cool surface. It slid open with silence, a gentle action that revealed a blank wall that was mild in tone. The room seemed to be bathed in natural light, rays and shadows spilling past the threshold, an outside breeze evident in the outlines of leaves swaying on the tiled floor.

There was a hesitancy in your steps, first peeking your head in before entering completely; you kept your hand busy with the embroidery on your uniform. The room was nondescript, not a touch of personality, but much bigger and _much_ brighter than any place you had ever stayed. Sheer curtains covered banks of windows, the city and bay clear through the glass. The water appeared to be waking up with each passing minute, white foam tiding along the shore, the sound washing in through an open door leading to the back balcony.

The space was an expanse designed with minimalism in mind; it was open, the entire residence visible from the door aside from the refresher. First was a small sitting area and an unset dining table; both were constructed with neutral colors, the furnishings spaced with a laser precision. There were accents of greenery, florals, and art – nothing that matched that which hung in the halls. A step down from the rest of the room was a bed.

Set in the center of its own level, the bed was enveloped by a wall of veiling fabric; it hung directly from the ceiling, the circular track hidden above. Slight plumes of the soft material splayed where it met the floor, its warm tint shielding the bright whites covering the mattress, the delicate mesh leaving a three-stride berth on each side. Each breeze that blew past brought life to the canopy, inspired fine movements, teased the excess fabric closer to the bed.

You had not realized that in taking in the hypnotizing sight you had moved toward it. The tips of your fingers graced the ceiling-length slit to give a better view of the plush setting of covers and pillows. Images of Kylo Ren flitted past your mind’s eye; the thought of him here, the sun waking him up, how warm the amber of his eyes would be – almost golden in the light. And then his new addition crept into memory, but it was not a blight; envisioning him healed, no black bandaging to deepen his wound, you fawned at the vision of him lying here with the sun cutting perpendicular along a slightly pink, slightly raised scar.

“I suppose they should add breaking and entering to your list of criminalities.”

Fury overtook your blood, your visions of impossible mornings dead, your first reaction to the sinister voice rage and not fear. The canopy would have been torn to shreds had you not let go of it prior to digging crescents into the heels of your hands. Thoughts raced by, each chaotic and rigid, none more prominent than _I would kill this creature if I could._

“No use in threatening what you cannot even hope to deliver on. Setting yourself up for failure. Again,” Snoke drawled, his tone all too familiar and grating.

You went to rush him, to spin and try and hurt him in any way possible, but he was not there. Not physically. A hologram projected from a mini transmitter set on the dining table, Snoke’s rotted head stood six feet tall and just as wide, his features hued in muted blue and structured in nearly seamless pixels. The monster was just as repulsive as the day you had met him, only now every wretched, festering detail of his face was set in high definition.

You stayed put, feeling no inclination to get closer than you were. “Your plaything isn’t here right now. Can I take a message?”

“Oh, I have many playthings, and I assure you that one of them is present, even when you agreed not to be.”

“What do you think _I_ can do about that?” you yelled, gesticulating your exacerbation. “I _tried_! I did everything you told me to do. I broke his trust. I got fucking _branded_ because of it! It didn’t work. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“It worked.” He chuckled to himself, his beaded eyes narrowing with his smirk. “Trust me, it worked thoroughly and as intended.”

“I’m not stupid enough to trust you. Not again. Everything you say is a lie or a game or some bent, broken, shredded version of the truth. No, _your_ truth. _Your_ agenda of utter nonsense!”

“I’ll assume, since you say you are not _stupid_ , that you can recall our deal? The one where you leave Ren’s service and I allow you to win your little trial and keep your license? Allow your friend his life?”

“Oh, don’t- _don’t_! Do _not_ bring up your half-wit deal with me! You know as well as I do that deal was nothing more than a sham to fit me as a pawn in your game. To get what you wanted. To use Kylo for your own bidding. _Monster_!” Spit sprayed with your exclamation, face filling with white hot rage.

Snoke hummed to himself, his head tilted back in observation. “You lied to me, I see now. It seems to yourself as well.” You brimmed with hostility, not knowing what he was referring to, not caring to verbalize that fact. “You care for him, yes. That was always evident, even in his mind you seemed to be softer toward him than others. It’s more than that, now, is it not?”

He deserved nothing, let alone a heart-to-heart about how you felt toward his prodigy. “What does it matter? Doesn’t the _supreme leader_ have more important matters on his hands? If it worked, why are you wasting time on me? If I’m such a stupid girl, why does it-,”

“Enough!” Snoke bellowed, the Force lifting you from the floor, your circulation slowing. “You are an insolent _child_! You defend a man who feels nothing for you, you insult the very person who can end your life with nothing more than the snap of my fingers! You talk about wasting time yet you forget how little of yours remains without my influence.”

You spit at the projected snarl, thinking maybe he could feel it since you could feel the Force through his transmission. “Fuck your deal. You would never honor one with someone like me, someone you see as lesser.”

“You are lesser, young officer,” Snoke patronized, “you fight for causes long lost, you refuse the hand that holds your life. You are a fool to think you have a choice in obeying me, only now you are one that will do so without the added prospect of a promised trial.”

“My trial was never promised.”

“Perhaps, but now it will eat away at you to question if you were wrong in that assumption.” He taunted you with malicious teeth, your knees slamming the ground when he released you. “Leave Ren’s service now and I’ll consider allowing you what remains of your life.”

In the polished white tile, between gasps of breath and pulses of light, you saw a girl; she was fed up with living for everyone but herself, sick of choosing everything she never wanted. This girl had met Snoke before, had faced him and survived, had done his bidding and lost tenfold what she was offered in return. She was not scared, but wildly angry. She would not waste another fleeting second doing the dirty work of this manipulative _thing_.

And then something occurred to her: she didn’t have to.

“No.”

“I’ll make sure to tell your friend how little you valued his life before I kill him.”

Softly, flatly, “you won’t kill him. Or me. You can’t.”

Snoke’s reflected expression coiled into itself, narrowed eyes and sharp teeth cutting into the tiles. “I am not often refused, _girl_.”

You stood, the wrath of your eyes burning through the black of his. “I was right earlier – you _don’t_ waste time on lesser officers. But I’m not lesser, am I? I’m not lesser because I’m in your _way_! If your plan worked so well, why would it matter if I’m under Ren’s service?” Aggravated twitches lit at his nares. “ _Oh_ , you should have just killed me! Because now you can’t. Because I told Kylo Ren _everything_. He heard _everything_ -,”

“You forget,” he growled, simmering with rage, “he doesn’t believe any of it. That connection you broke remains unchanged. He has not and will never trust a word that comes from that egregious mouth of yours.”

Although your heart fell with those words, you knew he would only say them to spark doubt. They could be true, you had considered the same since your last night with Kylo. But now was not the time to break. You would hold steady, as you knew you were right.

Not a second passed before your response. “Maybe he doesn’t believe _me_. But should I or Mason end up dead? Hurt? It will confirm everything I told him. You would prove me right. You would lose at your own game.” With square shoulders and a titanium stare, clarity rang in your voice; “you still need his legacy. So long as that’s true, I am untouchable.”

Snoke kept to himself for a moment, the room echoing with your declaration. His focus shifted, bringing attention to the fists at your hips. He hummed, a low tone that bit into your bones.

“You speak of a legacy you don’t know a thing about. You say I’ve lost at my own game, but you don’t have any idea who you’re playing with.”

“I know who I’m fighting for and _what_ I am fighting against. That’s all that matters.”

“So sure of yourself. How _foolish_ ,” he rasped.

“I made good on our deal. You didn’t.” You shrugged, a rush of pomp quirking your lip. “You were right: betrayal _is_ a powerful motivator.”

However much he tried to hide it, you saw his upper lip tighten into a sneer. Snoke appeared barely contained, that sneer capitalized by the flare of his nostrils. “For someone with such a mouth as yours, you are quite liberal in turning my own words against me.” Danger loomed in his stare, skulking just out of sight. “It would be wise to recognize that I can just as swiftly do the same with _every_ one of yours.”

Snoke leered at you a moment before the projection died out. Silence surrounded you, the room suffocated with remnants of tension. A passing want to destroy the transmitter sparked in your hands, only to fade when you considered how futile the action would be; if he wanted, Snoke would find a way to get to you. There was nothing to gain in wasting any more energy on him.

That final threat hung in the air, but something stronger, brighter, took its place – the freedom you had just fought for. The freedom you had just won. The feeling glowed in your chest, shivered down your spine, and emanated from the very center of your being. You were not naïve enough to believe you were free of _everything_ – the trial would still go on, your life still remained in the Board’s hands, you were still guaranteed to lose your license – but to be rid of Snoke’s chokehold on your life? You could not remember the last time you breathed this deeply or stood this still.

But all peace, short-lived or otherwise, must come to an end.

Lost in your victory, you returned to the present to Kylo Ren standing in the entrance of his room. Wherever his mask had gone you did not know, but you were thankful for its absence. Without the chrome-slit visor, you beheld him in true light for the first time.

His hair seemed wavier than past instances, his curls defined in the light. The sun had gained height since you arrived, and it left no shadow cast over his face. He wore a black ensemble, only vacant of any robes or cape. Without them he was less intense, yet it remained that he was always framed in power. That was the constant of Kylo Ren. Not because of what he wore, but because of who he was.

Here, though, the morning exalted him, cast him in a golden light; it appeared that the black of space had never presented him in all his glory, never gave light to every fine detail of his skin the way daylight was doing now. Without the light you had never seen the auburn threaded through his black locks, or the slight rose undertone of his lips, or even smoothness of his face evident of earlier shaving. It was like seeing him for the first time, the light reimagining him. He looked like royalty.

Despondence took root, your heart sank to your stomach, and you felt surrender burrow deep down. In his gaze, steady and expectant, you remembered: “You don’t believe me. Maybe I’m free of that bastard, but for some reason he has you wrapped around his finger.”

His focus remained on you with every step he took. “Snoke said this.”

“I don’t need an explanation. I know why. I… betrayed you. I went against you. I lied to you.” The quiet was aching, his footfalls so light he could have been floating. “Snoke would have killed Mason had I not gone through with his plan. I thought I regretted saving him. I really did. But that’s, that’s not what I regret.” You wanted to latch onto him, needed him to know the depth of the sincerity in your words, but you settled on pouring as much of it as possible into your gaze. “I wanted to choose you, Kylo. I did.” Your throat thickened with grief. “But we both know that between you and Mason it’s obvious who had the better odds against Snoke.”

“It is.” He was one stride away.

“I’m not going to apologize for the decision I made.”

“I’ve never wanted your apologies. I’ve made this clear.”

“So, what now? If you don’t trust me, if there is nothing I can do to change that, why am I here? Why do you want anything to do with me?”

When he looked at you next, it was deeper than before; the way he concentrated on you could only be described as a silent pact, something that felt closer to a promise than any that had been verbalized before. There was nothing soft about the stare, but sturdy. Fixed. Fortified. It felt personal, like you were the only one meant for what he would say.

It surprised you when leather cupped your cheek, one last stride closing the distance between you, amber blazing with intensity only a breath away.

“Trust me first.”

“Huh?” It was genuine. You were unsure if you heard him correctly as you were too lost in the warmth of his touch to think clearly.

He swallowed, his bottom lip catching your top. “What you can do. What you will do. You want me to trust you.” He leaned into you, new pressure from his hand, and kissed you. It was gentle, savoring, and over sooner than you wanted. Fresh breath whispered over your nose, too close to see if his eyes were open, too lost to him to care. “Trust _me_ first.”

“I don’t understand-,”

Kylo kissed you again, just as before but deeper; it felt sacred, like a promise you did not know yet.

He pulled away, your lips plush from his, your want for more overshadowed by your need for his words. His eyes remained closed a second longer than yours, his face falling into certainty before his touch went away and he regarded you as something more than his provider.

Not romantically.

Not professionally.

As a comrade. As his partner.

_As an equal_?

“You will. In time.”

He waited for your response. All that seemed right was to nod. He returned the gesture, his stare impenetrable.

What tore you from him was the soft breeze on the back of your neck. It reminded you there was a world outside of the man in front of you. It reminded you there was work to be done.

You clasped your hands over your tailbone, assertion overcoming you. “Should you need me, I will be in the adjoined room. I have my watch.”

“I appreciate the report, officer.” It was miniscule, but a grin lifted his scarred cheek.

“I look forward to our time here,” you stepped so you stood next to him, your nose against his sleeve when you whispered, “ _Master Ren_.”

He did not move a muscle as you strode toward the door, not a breath left him that you could hear.

Just before you passed through the threshold, he spoke your name. Thick, throaty, commanding. “One last order of business. Turn so you can face me.”

You did just that, his head cocked to the side, that grin from before wider. Darker.

“Yes, Master?”

He nodded once, his focus first on the embroidery of your uniform, and then lower as to set it upon the mark he’d made. His eyes narrowed, a breath filled his chest, and he finally met your eyes.

“Welcome to Canto Bight, _little nurse_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with less than 48 hours of this hell year left, I give to you whatever this is. I will provide wookiepedia links for Karmen's necklace visual and just a general link so you can browse through the multiple flowers mentioned here.
> 
> It is quite funny, actually. On New Years Day last year, I met Kylo Ren. My first Star Wars movie was TROS. And to fall in love with him, only for him to be unalive only three hours later? To say I went down the rabbit hole and committed my year to him and Adam Driver would be an understatement. I seriously never would have expected anything that happened during this crazy year, but never in my wildest dreams would I have believed it if I knew I would be writing again, practicing my skill, and befriending many brilliant writers and artists along the way. 
> 
> Thank you to my readers, my commenters, my dearests. Every one of your thoughts seriously feeds my soul. It encourages me. It brings me the highest amount of joy. I can only hope that what I create is worthy of the praise you offer me.
> 
> I am enjoying a much needed break - and, yes, I did pass this semester! Maybe with less sanity than I went into it with, but I have grown from it. Maternal-Newborn, I say this with the most sincerity - get fucked!
> 
> Thank you always for your exceeding patience. I cannot express how much I appreciate it. I love this story and am ready to delve into this next part of it!
> 
> I wish you all the happiest of New Years. Remember to always be kind, take care of yourself, and drink your water.
> 
> \- ST
> 
> [Flowers](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Flowers)   
>  [Medic symbol](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Red_sigil#:~:text=The%20red%20sigil%20was%20a,vehicles%2C%20equipment%2C%20and%20personnel.)


	27. There is No Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy trail worship? Happy trail worship.

Stress enveloped your skull in throbbing pain, Karmen’s six-hour rundown stinging your senses and drawing you inward. Halfway through, you had already begun to feel the excess of information take its toll; Zag’s voice – unpleasant in _small_ doses – grated into you, each word coming too fast and leaving too soon. Thankfully, no doubt to cover herself, she had left you with a thumb drive; it summarized everything she’d mentioned.

After the ordeal, when she left by the sharp click of her heels, you understood why it was recommended to arrive two days prior to the initial hearing: you were utterly and dreadfully exhausted. After unpacking – ensuring easy access to your favorite socks and keeping Snoke’s letter tucked into the back drawer of a desk – you had sat in bed for an hour trying to refresh with the thumb drive’s contents; you’d were determined to be prepared for tomorrow’s shift at Canto Bight’s recovery wing. If nothing else, you would not make a fool of yourself during your practice here. This you swore to yourself.

At some point you had drifted to sleep, waking to find your cheek stuck to the datapad that’d been propped up before you. The sunset woke you with a searing ray of light, screaming fuchsias and hazy purples warming your outstretched arm as they cast through open curtains. The breeze rolled off of the bay and tickled loose hair over your nape, a deep breath stretching your lungs awake before you unfurled from yourself. 

The radar at your wrist indicated Kylo Ren was near but not in his quarters, probably not inside the building. It was a confusing feeling – the unsteadiness you felt when revisiting your earlier interaction, the vagueness of his words contradicted by the certainty in which they’d been delivered, but simultaneously this calm in your chest since you had left him. Although you had no idea what he’d gone on about, or what _in time_ meant, his mere presence – the fact that he was near and would _continue_ to be – allowed you these glimmers of peace.

Not since Starkiller. Not since Snoke. Not Mason and his baseless confidence, no matter how much you wished to latch onto it; not Talia, who had helped you back from your darkest moment. The only things that stilled you were the known proximity of your master, and the nature of the words he’d earlier spoken. You’d felt it that recent night on the Finalizer, how it lingered in your muscles just before you’d dozed off, how it seemed his presence had scared your nightmares away.

However ridiculous and backwards, Kylo Ren – the one whose pain is printed on your skin, who led a slaughter just strides away from you – had become a constant. It was never what you had expected, but when you thought of the trial now, what eased your nerves was nothing less than the raven-haired warrior whose face was slashed with midnight hues of pain. 

Much like you, you’d come to realize, he had survived Starkiller, and the event changed him. Though you could not know for sure, you began to wonder if what had gone on had not only left him with the wounds that’d wet your skin, but perhaps ones that were deeper – ones that were not so visible. Something happened before that explosion, something more than whatever fight had earned him that scar.

You shook your head; this was too much to think on right now. With a throw draped over your back, you trudged through the room and out into the chill of your side-balcony. This sky held more beauty than any you’d ever seen; you watched the sun descend, spying a domed, octagonal pavilion at the far left of the side gardens. It dripped with violet-petaled ropes and emerald ivies, was supported by scalloped columns entwined with twinkling blooms welded from gold, the whole stage centered around a sunken fire pit. 

Considering for a moment, you saw it would have a better view of the sunset, and you’d been cooped up since arriving. It was a quick decision, catching view of a spiral of stairs that led to the grounds, but only after noting the pair of doors a few paces left of your room’s. They were closed, and the inner curtains seemed to be shut, the room behind them dark. Empty.

No, Kylo Ren was not here, but – a thumb over your radar – he was not far. Somewhere off on his own business. Training, maybe. At least, that’s what you supposed kept you from traveling with him, the thought frustrating. Maybe – no, _undoubtedly_ – he would never admit to it, never show it, but he was still recovering. 

Ten days ago he was in a medically induced coma talking about someone named _Ben_ and how _he’s dead_. Bacta works wonders, but it means nothing if a patient is noncompliant with post-operative restrictions, like swinging around a plasma sword for hours on end, or doing trial runs with the Force – which, although you knew little about, one could easily assume it put strain on the body. 

Maybe you were wrong and your master was completely fine, maybe the Force _aided_ in healing. No matter, you worried; for him, mostly, never forgetting how he appeared in that medbay, but also for yourself. It was clear that you cared for him – for fuck’s sake, when you thought you’d never see him again you wanted to tell him you _loved_ him – and you knew his pursuits could very likely be the death of him. Stubborn as you might be to acknowledge it, so long as he was okay and not recklessly shredding through healed wounds, so long as he returned to you, you could rest somewhat soundly.

Hugging your blanket, tighter when the wind blew, you wandered down to the courtyard’s trim lawn, along the overflowing flowerbeds that brimmed with brilliant colors, until you met the few steps that led to the pavilion’s stage. Flames shocked you when you stepped onto the eight-sided base, your presence triggering a hidden system. The rectangular pit exploded into a rainbow of fire, thin veils of flames ascending elegantly into an ordered myriad. The pit was massive, consuming the base but for a few paces from each support.

Much like everything else, the pavilion was grand in size and decoration; the hearth’s hues danced along the draped flora, at least ten paces separating each gold-threaded pillar. Everything here was explicitly luxurious, so big and gorgeous. You wanted to settle into it, but it was temporary, and you would not know how fatal that fact was until it was too late.

Farther out, flames rippled over the bay; the sinking heat of the sun endeared your skin, the warmth at your back growing in distance as you gave in to the silent call of the scorching sky. First tracing the tip of one of the gold leaves woven to a pillar, admiring the detailed stems and ridges, you curled up against the column’s wide base. Head caressed by the smooth, cool stone, knees curled close to your chest, you were glamored by the water’s rhythmic sway, wondering if you would ever have the chance to feel it on your skin.

It took little effort to keep Karmen’s lecture from your thoughts, too lost to the burgundy of dusk that bloomed as the sun wilted toward the bay. A stillness surrounded you, and then you tuned into the chirping whispers of bugs that remained hidden with the fall of night. It did not bother you in the slightest, their distant songs a reminder of your life before the academy. A passing thought, fond amusement lazily humming in your chest – _there are no crickets in space_. 

You remained folded against the pillar for some time, watching night creep over the city, more grateful for the heat on your back as warmth waned, the moon climbing higher with each lulling minute. The stone iced into your cheek. You went to leave, but your commlink buzzed at your waist, and you knew it would be wiser to keep this particular conversation outside. 

Elbows to your knees, you ruffled a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and answered Mason’s call. “How’s your day, McCarty?” There was no use in starting an argument if he had moved on from earlier.

“Probably better than yours, if I had to guess.” He sounded chipper. It was a relief.

“Well, what went on? Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What’d you eat?”

“I’ve really just been hanging out at the house since getting here. Caught a nap, which was nice. Soto sent me a transmission detailing updates on a few patients.”

He wasn’t hostile at all. Hopefully it meant he was done being weird. “I also got a nap. Which, agreed, is definitely nice. _Especially_ after being kept in a room with Zag for six hours and trying to keep my head from exploding.”

“Six hours? With Zag? Are they trying to get you convicted of murder?”

You shared a laugh, scooting along the stone floor and peering up to the ceiling. It was tiled with mosaics, the fire’s vibrant colors reflecting off of it and shifting along the intricate designs. The view of the city was wider from this position, distant lights shimmering in windows that peered into whatever parties were undoubtedly happening. 

“She isn’t _that_ bad. It’s just her voice. And I barely have a handle on anything other than the fact that I have my first shift tomorrow, and then two days after that is the initial hearing. And I don’t even want to think about that to begin with, so…”

“Well,” he sighed your name, “I’ll be there. Bright and early, just like you. Wearing my _second-best_ attire, saving the very best for the official trial, of course.”

“Jeez, that’s another thing, right? They fly us out here, put me up in some military-grade villa, but they give me _nothing_ to wear, are aware that my residence just exploded on Starkiller, and _then_ still say I can’t wear my uniform. I just find that a bit unfair. But that’s what _I_ think, which we both know has not mattered since the very beginning of all this. I don’t even know why I expected anything different. I’ll just have to request transport to the shops or something. And then make credits appear out of thin air to pay for it.”

With notably increased enthusiasm Mason said, “Actually, I, uh, I was going through the house earlier and there’s actually a lot left over from my family’s recent trip. You’re free to come over and take some stuff back to your embassy if you want.”

“Alright, first – not _my_ embassy, and if we’re calling it anything, I vote _palace_. Seriously—” you stared at a trellis that overflowed with wild blooms of every shade of red, the dead, fallen petals mocking you in the familiar way they pooled beneath. “—this place is too beautiful for any of the old businessmen who stay here. It’s actually ridiculous.”

“So it’s not homey, after all?”

A bellowing laugh came from the center of your chest, echoing up to the domed roof and into the growing dark. “No. _No_. Not homey. Not quaint. None of that. Just giant and spectacular.”

“Well, whatever it is, do you want to come over and grab some clothes?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. That’s a lot better than spending credits I don’t have. Although maybe I’m worrying for nothing? Don’t they forgive your debt when you die, anyway?”

Mason did not laugh, did not even speak, and your amusement fell into alarm. An edge menaced along each pointed word when he spoke; “Maybe they’ll forgive your debt, but I won’t forgive you for dying.” He grunted in rejection. “You’re not dying, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”

Silence swallowed you both, and for a moment you could _hear_ him trembling, hear the shakiness of his breath. A sharp exhale startled your hand from your ear. And then it was quiet again. He cleared his throat, and you noticed how thick it had become. _Was he crying_?

“Mason, you need to tell me what’s going on. And don’t say-,”

“Nothing is going on. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Funny, because when you say that, when you tell me _we’re fine_ when I didn’t ask, it makes me think the exact opposite.”

He sighed, but at this point there was a good chance it was more exasperation or _fuming_ than anything else. “I’m not having this conversation when I can’t see you.”

“Well, I’ll just turn my transmission on and we can-,”

“ _No_.” Clipped, barked. Final.

It concaved your chest. Mason had never spoken to you like this. Your teeth scraped at your bottom lip. “Should I be worried?”

He paused. “No,” as it gritted through his teeth, your name was contoured with wisps of ire. An ounce less of restraint and whatever he was holding back would crack this hardened, taut façade.

The worst came to mind. All you could manage was a terrified whisper, “Are you revoking your seat to testify? Is that what this is about? Am I about – _fuck_ – am I about to- I can’t lose you. I can’t-,”

“I _told_ you. I told you I will be there.” Frosted fury swept through his following pause. His flat tone was laced with quiet hurt when he next said, “Do you really think I could do that to you? Leave you in the dust like that?”

“No. I guess not.”

“ _You guess not_ ,” he thought aloud, a long drag of breath crackling into your ear. “I’m glad that you’re settled in, and… good luck during your shift tomorrow. You don’t need it, I know, but nonetheless.”

He was dismissing you. You hated it. “I’m not hanging up until I know we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” he said simply, too fast. Mason cleared his throat. “Request transport for the morning after your shift. You can shop around the closets and after, we can order lunch and… and we can talk. About things. Everything.”

It was apparent he would not give anything more away, but you knew from his flat tone that whatever it was, was detrimental to him. Or you. Or both.

“Yeah. I’ll put in the request after shift tomorrow.”

Another long, aching silence. You listened to his breath, trying and failing at ignoring the knives in it. The line remained silent, the hanging static a backdrop to the hidden, harmless creatures humming in the night. 

“I love you, Mason,” you prompted, teeth catching your trembling lips, time choking you with every halved second that trudged along.

It killed you, every inhale adding to the weight in your chest, every empty, wordless moment he spent cutting into you with a silent blade.

Another second and you turned back to the heightening tide of the bay, the clear night sky dying it a deep navy. Even as you tried to focus on the waves that foamed along the distant shore, there was no sound louder than Mason’s nonresponse.

“Goodnight,” Mason said, small, far enough away that it splintered through your heart like ice wedged through rock.

“Good-,” the line went dead, the static dying, a night-kissed wave crashing in your periphery, “-night.”

The iridescent veils of hearth rippled before you now, turning away from the seemingly infinite expanse of water. Even so, you shivered, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the weather. Tucking your commlink into your waist pocket, loosing a long-kept breath, you stood from the stone and clasped your blanket over your shoulders. With a final glance, chin to your shoulder, you appreciated the beauty of your first night here. 

Whatever awaited you tomorrow, the next day, and in the weeks to come? It would remain. For now, just this one moment alone, you could pretend that everything was okay. Just for a moment.

A soft touch brushed your shoulder, but when you turned to meet whoever it belonged to, you found there was no one around. But a light caught your eye, one that had not been there before. Maybe that interruption to the dark captured your attention, but not at all was it what kept your gaze above the gardens.

Through the clear night, a breeze danced through the flora, glittering scarlet petals into the shadows. Above those dwindling rubies, leaning over the balcony’s curve, was Kylo Ren. Behind him, the golden light of his quarters caressed his back, small fragments draping over the sharp, toned muscles of his shoulders. He was staring down to you, his gaze laving along your figure, eyes those of a predator aware their prey was no match for them. The ever-heightening moon was all that lit his front, but it was enough. No, so much _more_ than enough. Entrancing. Captivating. _Beguiling_.

Light cascaded along the taut strength of Kylo’s abdomen, his broad, thick chest emanating with the smooth white of the dusk’s sun. Once more, like it always did, the scar skating through his features kept your attention. From a distance it was less intrusive, but its presence sank your heart like the sun had wandered into the sea.

A whip of night air pushed his hair back to tease his ears, his head slightly cocking to the side when you found his eyes again. There was no color to them, none that you could see so far away, but you felt their heat slink along your lips, then your neck, over your chest, and lower still. When they claimed yours once more, they were sculpted with steadfast steel, strong and slithering, ordering your compliance to the smoking promises beyond.

Without noticing, that chill from earlier had left you, and you gathered the blanket so it hung from your forearm. Kylo held you with his eyes, the fire’s warmth falling away when you stepped off the platform and wandered, in leisure, down the steps and into the plush lawn. A dew was readying to form on the grass beneath your bare feet, the coolness welcome under his blazing attention. One step, two, another, and a final; small, shuffling, like you were hypnotized – truthfully, you could have been, but there was none but your own intent in the steps that carried you closer to him.

Only when he straightened to his full height, standing away from the balcony’s edge, did you halt your advance. He paused there, watching you, so gracefully still you were unsure of his breathing. From his new position you could no longer see his hands, but – you could _feel_ them. A pressure along your cheek, your heart stammering at how its span so completely matched his own, and then around your throat, dizzying when it teased your carotids. Breath shivered from your slack mouth, catching when that – _his_ – ghosted touch skimmed down your sternum and pushed into your rib cage. 

Kylo made no sound, but when the night’s quiet scattered around your faint, gasped moan – feeling the whispered hands smooth over your hips, around the front of your thighs – you saw his jaw flutter, darkness and moonlight tangling when he gave you one final glance. The phantom touch left, a feline smirk flickered along his lips, and when his brows descended and veiled those deep, deep eyes, Kylo turned and sauntered out of sight.

But you understood his message, the silent one that only his body spoke, and you knew that his leaving was not _goodnight_ , but an invitation. One you fully intended on accepting. 

The trees swayed above you, the beds of perfectly spaced flowers blowing with the gentle breeze and combining with the sea behind to fill your head with the salty, fresh aroma of a Canto Bight night. Each step you took along the patterned grass shimmered anticipation through your veins, heady, wanton thoughts brimming in your mind.

The cold stone that marked the ground level’s patio shocked through you, wet crimson petals that had pooled below the trellis now clinging to the soles of your feet. You did not have time, or at least were desperate to not waste any, to pluck them off, allowing them to travel with you as you led them up the curved staircase. As you climbed the steps, you stole a fleeting glimpse of the bay; from this height the city’s nightlife sheened along the shore, a few private ships zooming above the skyline and carrying their passengers to events unknown to you. 

Events that you could not have cared less about, not when you arrived to the second-level balcony, not when you saw the swaying curtain beyond Kylo Ren’s open, waiting door. No, those events meant nil, exceedingly so when you found the beginnings of a trail leading into his room, the first crumb that of pooled, discarded athletic pants. 

Instant, overwhelming chills clamored about your skull, the blanket draped over your arm joining the black bottoms when your limbs went wobbly. Through the wind-swept gossamer you spied the second addition – one long, impossibly large, black sock – and when you came closer, the cool of night waning as you met the threshold, your heart thrummed louder at the nearing shaft of light that fled the refresher’s entrance. 

Heated tiles warmed your first steps into Kylo’s room, the coquettish curtain kissing the tip of your nose before the door at your back locked shut in near silence. You brushed past the veil of fabric and took in your surroundings, quite different from what they were earlier. The golden rays of morning had since been overridden by soft panes of night, only the moon reflecting onto the light tile, not a single star to join it. The bed’s canopy remained shut, its thin sheets cascading around the bed so there was ample space to walk within its soft confines. And from that canopy, from the circular track above, bloomed delicate, mild light; it melted midway down the canopy, fading to nothing before it breeched the polished ivory below.

Another step and you noticed the trail of scarlet, dew-drop-covered petals you were leaving in your wake. On the step up from the bed’s level lay a second sock, so you padded to it, and tuned into the sound of heavy, rushing water that became louder as you delved further into the dimly lit room. This level was dark save for the glow of the open refresher; you followed that light like a lost vessel in space, hands trembling as you passed through the sitting area with soundless strides. Finally, as you’d calculated at the earlier bareness of his chest, you found the piece of clothing that signaled your final destination lying at your feet.

Atop the refresher’s threshold lay a pair of black boxer-briefs – unfolded, just as they’d appear fresh off the heated, muscled body from which they’d come. A smile played at your lips, remembering how the pair he’d so generously provided you the morning after you’d first slept next to him had hugged your hips with subtle compression. Those, unfortunately, were undoubtedly obliterated with everything else that had exploded with Starkiller. 

Kylo Ren was nowhere within view, but running water tucked behind a corner to your left, and when steam swirled around an inlet that bordered a sleek, unbroken wall of ash-grey tile, your lungs lit with need, with want, your thoughts only focused on the body and man that waited for you just beyond view, just out of reach. Suddenly you became aware of how overdressed you were, so you turned to your right and found a mirror that ruled its own wall and plucked open the top button of your uniform.

The fogged silver expanse provided a blurred, softened outline of your near-bare body, scalding goosebumps scraping up your neck at the thought of Kylo’s slicked, dripping body. Hands hooked behind your back, you loosed your bra and smoothed the straps down the sides of your arms. And then all that covered you were the lack-luster panties the Finalizer had provided all those months ago, but they soon joined the small pile at your feet, leaving you naked and anticipatory and adamant.

Plopping your watch onto your clothes, you squared your shoulders, fixed your posture, and approached the heat of the hidden shower. Its warm embrace evoked such a calm through you, first loosening your shoulders, then steadying your breath.

Beyond the smoke hued barrier was a chamber of luxury, the water cascading from above like it came from an invisible storm cloud; its volume suggested a harsh pressure, but, stepping beneath the jets that seemed to span the entire stall, your skin was graced with the pleasant fall of a spring shower. Looking up, blinking through the misted warmth, you found the navy night sky peering down at you through the clear glass ceiling.

All light but that of the moon left the stall, and when your attention shifted down, you saw him through the sheets of water that kept you apart. The air was thick with fog and mist and night, but he remained the most devastatingly gorgeous person you’d ever seen, ever known. You needed him to be closer, you needed to be closer to him. No matter if you’d been with him those few nights ago, and though you’d spoken just hours ago, there was a tautness that tightened as your steps brought you to him. 

Arms at his sides, stance strong and confident, Kylo Ren was a stride away from you, and you stopped. Inky black hair dripped down his neck, and his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line, but all you could think of was how it felt you were seeing him for the first time all over again. He was different now, body scarred and worn from the passing of time. You did not stare at the red and black that had only been there for such a short time now. You appreciated it.

Kylo observed you, and a measure after your gaze followed the ebony ribbon rested in his countenance, you lifted a hand to it. He tensed and you caught his eyes, giving him a small nod before the very tip of your fourth finger kissed the start of his scar. You watched him, vaguely aware of your hand slipping along the marked path through his brow and down his cheek. Breath pushed from him in eased waves, his eyes danced between yours, and when you reached the line of his jaw and tapped your finger to the raised, pinking skin there, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes so you could press an aching kiss to it. 

That tenseness that’d clanged into him at your touch was instantly gone, the heated streams above not a match to the stifling relief that fogged from his nares. So near to him, a second hand pushing through wetted, onyx locks, you remembered how he’d stared up at you on the Command Shuttle, how unreadable his expression was when his new scars had still been fresh wounds.

Your touch found the tail end of his healing flesh, and you swallowed down a thick, betraying sob. “Why did you believe me?” you whispered, not looking up to him. “When I told you I hated you and I wanted to quit. When I said,” you winced, “when I called you a bastard and said I wished I could forget you. Why didn’t you fight it longer?”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, body still but not reluctant to the steady meandering of your fingers. Something haunted him when he said, “Irredeemable bastard, if you’ve forgotten.”

“No,” your throat bobbed, “I haven’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day. Any, any part of it.” Looking up at him, you smoothed your hand over the scar settled into his shoulder. “After that morning, after everything, why did you believe me?”

“You were saying goodbye,” he murmured, like he’d mulled over that day time and time again and never considered the possibility. “Before Takodana. You knew. He’d gotten to you by then.” A note of betrayal sharpened his tongue, a snarl lighting when he referred to Snoke.

The hand that wasn’t tracing circles along his scarred muscles now toyed with his ear, the tip of your index finger molding to the curved pinnae. “Kylo,” just a breath, nearly drowned by the water ricocheting at your feet, “answer me. Please.”

Smooth, low, he began, “Because who could-,” he swallowed, considering you before starting over, “Because I am a hated man. And I have always been a bastard. So when you said those things, after that morning, after you’d ran through Starkiller to tell me and _kept_ saying them…”

Memories fluttered behind his eyes, and as their burning brown centered glittered against the navy night, you lifted your hand so you could hold his face, hold it like a parent would caress their child’s tear-sodden cheek. Kylo blinked back to you and you comforted the purpled skin beneath his eye. 

He did not want to voice the answers you sought, but you watched as, piece by piece, you dented one of those walls he’d erected in that time-stained interrogation room. Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but you swore you felt him ease into your hand.

“I stopped fighting because only a fool counters the truth of his life.” Kylo’s throat bobbed, his deep, shadowed gaze swallowing you whole. He caught your hand and led it flat along his broad chest, and then to the panes of his abdomen, placing it over the bruised, raised flesh of the scar you’d yet to explore. “I believed you because there was no reason to doubt you.”

The showering heat from above shielded that which was blurring your vision. He believed you because _he_ believed those things of himself. After seeing him wear so many masks, physical or phantom, you saw it in his eyes that he _still_ thought those things and had for his entire life.

And then it made sense, and the realization dragged jagged, thorn-wrapped talons through your heart. You whispered through the water, wondering if you were speaking only for yourself when you said, “That’s why you didn’t look inside my head. You didn’t think it would show you anything different. You didn’t think I could ever feel differently.”

You ran your thumb along the uneven ridge of the scar forming over his side and tucked your other arm around his waist. With the force that kept moons anchored to their planets, you pulled him in and nestled into the notch of his breastbone.

Through your teeth, “You are _not_ a bastard. Or irredeemable,” your fingers dipped to the center of the healing tissue, “I’ve learned that we make the choices we think are best, and if that’s true, if I believe it? What do either of us have to be redeemed for?”

Kylo said your name, clear as the night that loomed overhead, and a patient finger tipped your chin up. “Nothing. Because there is no redemption for those who do not want it.”

Intensity hardened his face, and once more you felt that sense of equality between him and you. Long fingers smoothed into your drenched hair, and you found a prompt in his brow. Sighing, lungs stuttering, you asked, “What, then, if not redemption?”

The hand that he’d set over yours shifted to your hip, thick fingers prodding at your flesh. Kylo’s touch left your chin and the pad of his thumb rolled over the faint scar that cut into your hairline, a twinge of pain lighting at the memory of its origin; it had healed days ago, but you would never forget the sound of it cracking open when Robbie knocked your skull against the durasteel door. 

Kylo stopped musing when he heard you wince, his eyes meeting yours in a stark, unwavering gaze. He smoothed over the blight a final time and proceeded to skate his fingers along your jaw, his thumb coming to rest over your bottom lip. Similar to this morning, yet colder and with a quiet fury breathing beyond his eyes, he looked at you with solidarity.

Calm, sure, adamant, Kylo said, “Retribution.”

A moment to process was spent in his gaze, studying how unbreakable it was, swimming in the shadowed hazel that poured into you. Kylo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and before he could look away, you leaned up so you could reach his own. The swirled hair at his nape slithered through your fingers when you swept you hand from his abdomen and up his torso. Massive, enveloping hands trailed praise along your body until they were mirrored under your breasts.

Exploring his skin, your fingers took residence over the small of his back, digging red trails along the slick surface. You moaned into Kylo’s mouth when a capable hand claimed your supple chest and kneaded into you. He growled in response, a predatory sound that rippled through your nerves and tightened deep, deep in your belly. The pliant pads of his thumbs circled your nipples, the very tips of his nails flicking upward before he added his forefingers and pinched the sensitive peaks to his will. 

Kylo mouthed the hinge of your jaw, the bridge of his nose slipping along the bone until you surrendered your neck to him. He hummed against your artery, sucking away the beaded moisture that’d collected for the past few minutes – or had it been hours? Time evaded you further when the schemes of his tongue at your throat delved deeper, revealed themselves further when he laved at your clavicle, shifting between kissing and biting and marking as he made his way to your breastbone. 

His muscled back flexed as your fingers routed to his front, dipping low until you found the haze of soft, wet hair that grew from his pelvis. Kylo continued his endeavors and pulled you in by the curve of your back so he could bare your chest to him and run his nose under the base of your breast. His need for your body was evident in the way he bent you to his will, cradling your back so he could have you, but also permitting a sense of safety in the relentless strength that flowed from his forearms through to your marrow. 

Near limp in his hold, you tread your fingers down his pelvis and savored the feel of that patch of hair, feeling his pulse beat beneath it, reveling how water collected and fled in such a slow, teasing manner. His chest was to yours, so you felt, rather than heard, the pleasure vibrate from him, deepening when you grazed the very foundations of his hardening shaft. He breathed into your skin, mouthing at your breast and sucking painful paths as he went. The heat of his mouth melded around your nipple, and he bit, and even when you winced and writhed with satisfied hurt, Kylo kept on; not until you were sure he’d drawn blood did his teeth – their unique ridges now throbbing into your breast – leave you, replaced by the salve of his plush, scorching lips. The body of his tongue was structured with adamant, laving over your pebbled peak until poems of pleasure groaned from the depths of your chest. 

He leaned you back up and shifted his attention to the remaining half of your body, but you needed him just as much, and you wanted to litter his body with the same pleasure he’d given yours. So, snaking your hands to his jaw, you kissed the hinge opposite to his scar and pecked harder and longer, sucking at his skin like the blood that bruised would grant you eternal life. Falling to your knees in a steady, unrushed descent, you kissed every inch of his abdomen, every bump and ripple of skin that was present around the mending injury. With eyes peering up, hands cherishing the fronts of his thighs, you tongued the scarred tissue and watched him shutter with ecstasy, eyes half-lolling, mouth slackening for a second before he swallowed down whatever satisfaction would have left him.

You teethed at the soft, raised skin, watching him, content when a guiding hand pet down your slick hair. Shifting to his middle, you hummed from one hip bone to the next, feeling the tickle of hair that fled from his naval and dispersed in an even, thick layer of black atop his pubis. Hunger ravaged your throat and you nuzzled into the soft bed of obsidian hair. A kiss to it, then a nip, and then the tip of your nose swirled around the dark patch, his cock twitching at the side of your face.

Anchoring your eyes to his yet again, you dragged the flat of your tongue through the maintained, drenched hair and pushed both your hands along his inner thighs. The muscles beneath your touch sang, streamed just as fluidly as the droplets that were trickling down your spine. Pulling away from him, you faced his cock and observed how it bobbed with your eyes on it, watched it strain for friction when your hands teased both sides of his base, sifting through the dark curls beneath. 

The moonlight painted his shaft with subtle, breathtaking contours – a shadow cast under the spongey ridge of his head, light glinting off the misted moisture that’d caught on his flushed shaft. Each prominent vein cast a winding whisper of darkness just a measure from the next. It hypnotized you, the way they overlapped and crossed at points, bulging out from his cock and shifting with each throbbing pulse of blood that clamored through him. 

Curious fingers flitted along the heavy, hot column of flesh, tapping it and listening to the thickening breath from the man watching you through ravenous eyes. A smirk curved your mouth, and you peppered a light, whispered kiss to his slit, pushing his cockhead just so it met your teeth, and leading your lips away so the teasing burned through him. You pulled a hand away from his leg and sat back on your calves, taking a breast into it and kneading as he had before, plucking your nipple through each space between your fingers. 

“A teasing little whore tonight,” he purred, voice thick.

You hummed, pleased you were getting to him. “I’m your little nurse, remember?” The tip of your tongue teased circles into his frenulum. “And _you_ are my master. Isn’t that right? _Master_ Ren?” Fuck, the title even got to _you_ , cunt fluttering with the hope to be overflowing with him.

“Good girl, teasing whore, nasty slut? Little nurse? You have so many names now.”

“And all of them belong to you.”

You teased his tip and finally laved a flat tongue on the underside of his shaft, flicking it side to side and gripping into his structured, rippling thighs. Something animal, completely primal, roared in his throat, and sooner than you knew, Kylo Ren had joined you on your knees, the weight of his cock slicking down your middle and slapping up to your slit when inertia bounced through it. 

A masterful tongue slipped into your mouth and licked your hard pallet, next dropping down and pushing against the side of your own tongue. A muffled moan – one that you were unsure was his or yours or both – clouded through the shower’s downfall. But then a throat-thick huff, aggressive and impatient, gnarled through the air and you were spun on your knees so your back was flush with his chest.

“Yes,” he rumbled, “they do all belong to me.” A possessive hand pushed you into him with might, taking residence in the valley of your breasts. “Your names, your body. Everything.” His hips canted, and the tip of his cock knocked against your clit, fire billowing in your belly, quicker and deeper now. 

“Everything,” you echoed, finding his free hand and guiding it so it lay over the permanence etched into your thigh. “I’m- everything. It’s yours. _I_ am yours.”

Unrelenting digits bruised more marks around the one he’d made prior, and when you felt his cock fall in line with your entrance, you thrust into him as he did the same, and you took all of him, at once, in one, fluid, aching motion. An unabashed cry echoed euphoria throughout the moonlit stall. Before you could fully recover from the first thrust, his hand – the free hand that didn’t remain under your own, clutched to your thigh – dipped into your folds and that blooming fire from earlier mushroomed at the graze of his thick digits against the buzzing nerves. 

Thrust after thrust after thrust, fucking into you and filling you to the brim and then some each time, knocking the air from your lungs and burgeoning those sweet spots within with each paced, violent pass. All of that pressure combined with the winding circles and strokes he racked your clit with, you felt the breath of climax rise first in your chest, and then upward into your throat. 

Kylo was panting by your ear, sucking the skin behind, clutching you to him so it became uncertain where his body ended and yours began. You hooked your arm above your head and clutched at his drenched tresses, flailing for a better grip and settling on clasping your hand onto the back of his neck.

“I feel you,” he groaned.

“Feel me,” you huffed.

“I know you.”

“know me.”

“You’re mine,” your name was laden with yearning claim, lilting from his tongue so it caressed your mind, body, and soul all in one fell swoop. 

“Yours,” you heaved, “all, _yours_.”

You came. Simple. Body swimming in the schemes his fingers and cock and tongue and voice forced into you until it became too much. A few thrusts more and his pace faltered, cum spurting against your walls and dripping out of you as more and more left him. Full lips pressed fleeting, lulling praise into your nape, your shoulder, until he angled your head to his and branded his lips to yours. 

Spent, emotionally and physically, you fell into him and enjoyed the image of his legs framing your own. But then your eyes lolled shut and you simply breathed, settling into this moment as best you could, and tried to memorize the tide of his chest slicking against your back.

Barely aware in the vague, misty stall, you only realized that Kylo had begun cleaning you when he guided you back to your feet to rinse you free of soap. Even then you just leaned into his chest and let the jets spray silken streams down your skin. And then you were wrapped in a heated towel and cradled in his arms, leaving the steamy refresher and coming into the gentle atmosphere within the golden gossamer canopy.

With less than a word, maybe a breath, the light from above waned to nothingness, and the room was black save for the glinting eyes that studied your own. The towel discarded to the floor, you now lay beneath the thick comforter and linen sheets of Kylo Ren’s bed. Both naked, you huddled together in the center of the expansive mattress, legs wrapped together in an impossible knot, each breathing in the other’s warmth. 

Ease trickled into your muscles, and you shifted so your forehead could rest in the heat of his chest. 

“What changed? From the other night?” you yawned. “What convinced you? About Snoke.”

He was tired, too, you knew, the hand tucking you into him tracing lazy, distracting circles into your back to keep him from sleep. “Perspective, really. Seeing things clearly for the first time in… Seeing things clearly.”

For now, fatigue caressing you, that was an answer you could accept. He’d given you more of his mind tonight than ever before, and you did not care to mar that fact with a half-wit interrogation. Perhaps you would listen to him this time, given how little you potentially had left, and do as he’d said this morning.

 _Trust me first_.

It was sound advice, and not worth questioning on the eve of your first shift on Canto Bight. So you nuzzled into him and giggled when the tip of your nose nudged that black healing ribbon over his collar bone.

“I like your scars,” you hummed.

You could not be certain, sleep plunging you into its riptide, but just before it pulled you under, you swore you heard the fatigued rumble of Kylo Ren’s voice whisper, “I like yours too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I hope you enjoy this part. I am in my final semester for my ADN and cannot promise even monthly updates at this time. Please, please, please comment your thoughts because I don't want to produce content that is not enjoyable. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
> 
> \- ST


	28. You Need Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third time's the charm, right?

However short it might be, you thought you would like to spend the rest of forever exactly like this.

The sun remained hidden, and the light of the moon had faded, leaving you shrouded in darkness and engulfed in the heat of Kylo Ren’s resting form. Not a limb had moved from what you could remember before dozing off last night, your legs kept woven with his, cheek melting into his solid chest, the broad hand between your shoulders less stark in its effort to keep you against him. Still, the world vaguely existing beyond the canopy around you, you remained tucked into him, unsure if you had ever felt this amount of peace before. One difference now, something you’d never had the chance to experience, was the faint tickle of deep, rhythmic breath coming from the sleeping warrior who caressed you.

Twelve. Twelve perfect, dazed breaths kissed your forehead and sent mild sparks dancing along your skin; they followed thoughts of absent nightmares, nightmares that always seemed to keep away when he was near. Looking at him, peering up to see the vulnerability in his slackened mouth and long, looming eyelashes framing the dying purple that lay beneath them, you could tell he had not slept this well since Starkiller. Maybe even before then. Quietly, you allowed yourself somewhat of a small victory at the thought.

You did not know what to do, not wanting to wake him, yet aware that you needed to get ready for your shift. The calendar-chip Karmen had given you had transferred its data into your watch, but your watch was rooms away – worlds away – resting on the refresher floor. The transport ship would be waiting at the front entrance at six, but that had to be at least an hour away if you were banking on the soft darkness surrounding you, not quite remembering what it felt like waking up to real sunlight.

So, ever so slightly, making every effort to silence your breath and shifting, you loosed from his hold and led his arm lightly back down to the bed, watching him for any sign of disturbance. Through the distance, you heard the early, soft ebbing of the sea, noting how it complemented the push of Kylo’s exhales. He did not seem to stir, not even a lapse in his breathing when you rolled onto your back and tugged the linens up to cover your chest, the cold of the room taking residence over the skin previously pressed to the hearth of his own.

Your Master. The Commander of the First Order. Kylo Ren. How strange it was to be here, to see up close every healed and healing scar, to witness the slight twitch in his brow, to study the handsome line of his nose and the various moles that flecked along his cheeks. This was the strongest, most feared and lethal man in the galaxy, and here you were fawning over the light spray of sparce freckles sprawled along his cheekbones. A privilege, you thought, to have the man who haunted nightmares keep your very own at bay.

Lips pressed together, eyes full of wonder, you let the very tips of your fingers trace the raven haze of hair that splayed beneath his dreaming face. And when the dark ends met his shoulder, you risked a featherlight touch over the hand you had earlier placed. An intricate, beautiful pattern of veins jutted out on its surface, his long fingers curled into a weak fist, your focus lingering along the scars cut into his knuckles. A life of scrapes and training and battle and bruises lived in his skin, the veins beneath treading paths along them, like a map, like a guidebook to each blight of hurt that ghosted their blue trails. You swallowed a giggle, wondering if you would pick a sixteen or a fourteen-gauge needle to start an IV on him.

Running your fourth finger along the prominent vein that fled gracefully along his entire arm, you kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face and never wanting to disturb him, but needing to _feel_ him. A slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth made your heart jump, choking back a gasp when a curl of hair swept over his eyes. Another fascination, how full his lips were; you touched them, a sneaking whisper of your fingers, pulling down on the bottom one and leaning in closer and closer, warmth fogging your hand, your face, his features unmoving and mild.

The elegant brutality that now crowned his features – it was healing, its edges no longer raised and red, but flush with their binding. Two weeks ago his face had been unmarred, but the whole of you found this new normal breathtaking, heart-stopping. Beholding him now brought you back to that desperate moment, just before he’d carried you to bed, when you clung to him because you believed you’d never get another chance.

Palm flat to his chest, above his heart, following the lead of his lungs, you closed your eyes and rested your lips to the corner of his mouth, and said, quieter than the very thought of a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you.” A ghosted kiss. “I never wanted to leave then, and…” The steady beat of his heart remained, the rush of your own silencing the tide of the waking bay. With his next breath, with an aching chest that held nothing of the pain it had previously, you breathed, “I never wanted to leave then, and I never want to leave again.”

Not a single tear, not even the suggestion of one, nothing but adamant truth tapping against the canopy’s silence. You needed him here, no longer caring if it stole the innocence and vulnerability of sleep’s caress.

“Kylo,” you whispered, kissing him with intent, coaxing him awake.

A deep, sharp inhale. You could not trap the smile that broke across your cheeks.

A nuzzle against his nose, curious fingers breeching that sea of obsidian tresses. “Kylo, wake up.”

He hummed, his lips finally leading into yours when he left his dream’s embrace. Like he had not wanted it moved, his hand reclaimed your back and pressed you against him, his other hiking your leg atop his own, the feel of his skin warming you to your very center. Nearly melded against him, his bare torso to yours, you felt him harden, felt the heat of his cock grow and thicken, become weighted as it filled and filled. You caught an unbidden gasp, leaning away from him long enough to see the mischief that danced in his eyes.

His arms coiled around you as he stretched, a cant of his hips to finish off the gesture. He was looking down at you, first at your face, then over your body, the skim of his eyes heavy when you could see their every tick. Kylo slid a rough hand up your leg, stopping just beneath the curve of your ass and anchoring himself to the scorching skin of your inner thigh. When he looked back to your eyes, searing amber swallowed by the shadows of the room, you smiled and ground yourself into his erection. Kylo growled in approval, your lips gracing his and feeling the depth of the vibration on his lips.

“You know,” he sighed, sleep heavy in his voice, “they should add assault and battery to your charges.” Those fingers around your thigh reached deeper.

“Hm, and why is that?”

“Because,” he nipped your bottom lip, “I didn’t consent to any of this.”

His crooning tone filtered into your veins, amusement blooming in your chest. “You were asleep. If anything, I was being considerate.”

“Considerate, mm?” Your fingers fisted at his nape, the hand at your back gliding up to do the same. “I guess I’ve been very considerate both times I’ve woken up before you, then.”

“Kylo Ren: considerate,” you chuffed a giggle, “I don’t know about that.”

“Really?” he rumbled, light yet venomous. Kylo tread parted lips along your jaw, your ear lobe slipping between them before he pulled you in and whispered with pride and claim, “Because that first morning, before I left you to sleep in my bed,” the hand around your thigh shifted upward, just grazing your slit, “I stared at the bruises I’d made the previous night, stared at how they’d grown and how they all belonged to me.”

The tip of his tongue slid along the shell of your ear, a pant parting your lips when his cock throbbed into your abdomen.

Kylo’s tone had lowered and thickened when he next spoke, “I thought about waking you up, then,” the tip of his finger pushed into the wetness that had gathered between your legs, a pleasured hum rolling out of him, “thought about fucking my hand while I watched you sleep, knowing my cum had dried onto your thighs overnight.”

Hot, masterful fingers parted your folds, your breath stuck in your throat as Kylo stared into you, watching you when his touch brushed lazily against your clit. His eyes narrowed in knowing pride when yours seemed to flutter, hiking your leg up further, trying to get another graze of his touch. An effort in vain. His hips canted again, slowly this time, stroking himself against the soft skin of your belly.

“I wanted to fuck you awake, really, wanted the first thing you were aware of to be me splitting you open, wanted to see your eyes lull and widen when you realized what was going on.” A second tease of those fingers, slick slipping past your entrance. “And I could have, you know,” he drawled, a third nudge over your stiffened bud, a tug at the nape of your neck.

He waited, observing you before you asked through shuddering breath, “What do I know?”

An upward slant to those plush lips, a tongue running along his teeth, a viper behind his eyes. “You know that I can have you whenever, however I want—” his fingers began a slow, circling pattern, passing over and over that sweet spot “—because you’re always ready for me, always wet.” His hand shifted so it was his thumb rolling over the buzzing nerves, and the tips of three bare, slickened fingers teased your core. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You ground into him, begging for more of him, the length of his cock burning into you, slipping against your stomach as precum slicked his shaft. With as much nonchalance as you could muster, which was near zilch as you held back hums and winces with each pass of his thumb, you sighed, “Maybe, or perhaps you’re forgetting my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Maybe not right now,” he purred, pumping and circling his fingers, effectively inching you toward climax, “give it time. Give _me_ time.”

“What are you talking about?” you panted, pushing your body into his hand, reaching the very brink of pleasure.

His hips canted, he grunted, and when you winced, _seethed_ with pleasure, felt it tighten in your belly and quiver along your legs, Kylo stopped.

“No,” you whined, “ _no_! That’s just cruel,” you pulled his face from your neck, “Kylo, what-,”

He said nothing, but there was something unreadable in his expression that stopped you from readying for battle. It appeared like something had just clicked for him, his eyes so distant he could have been in an entirely different galaxy for all you knew. Just as fast as he was gone, he returned with passive pomp settling a smirk into his face.

You studied him, confused and stunted, but if he wanted to return from wherever he’d gone, so would you. “Hey!” You punched his shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He ground his teeth, sucking them before the most sardonic smile cast over his features. “You should get dressed,” he cooed your name, the sweet tone widening your eyes, feeling the challenge in it, “I would hate for you to be late to your second first day.” He hummed, laving his gaze over the sweat glittering along your heaving chest, tiding viciously with unsated breath. “We both know what happened the first time.”

With a raised brow, “I have two capable hands,” you countered, pushing away from him. “I don’t need you.”

Quicker than you could register, he had both your hands pinned beside your head, his broad, structured body pressing fully into you. “You do need me,” he breathed, nothing feral in his tone, but sure, not a shred of doubt when he said, “you need me, and for this to work-,”

“For _what_ to work?”

He kept quiet for a moment, a decision weighing on him, focus flicking between your eyes and the light that teased beyond the windows, along the horizon. It appeared as if time would have permitted, if the sun had slept in a second longer, he would have answered you. You saw it in his eyes, when he peered down to you, his hair a shield from the rest of the world, you saw that whatever rested against his lips – it would have changed everything you knew. Everything you did not know.

But instead, with a swallow and a sigh, he simply said, “For this to work, you do need me.”

You tested a hand from under his, slipping it so your thumb smoothed along his flushed ear. Flitting your attention between his stark, serious eyes, feeling the panting of his parted lips, you knew you were right when you said, “We need each other.” Your other hand found its earlier home over his chest; staring at its placement, feeling every smooth, unrelenting beat of his heart, you declared, “for this to work, we need each other.”

Another quiet moment, and when you looked up, you found the very beginnings of dawn claiming the shadows that had earlier claimed his irises. Pushing his hair back, you could see that even though you were right – you _did_ need each other – he didn’t want it to be true. Not that it seemed to anger him, but something remained hidden, kept quiet in his gaze, something taut and unyielding; something, it seemed, he did not want to admit – to you or himself.

He nodded. Not a word, not a breath. But more than you would have expected from him in the past.

_Equal_.

“You could have just let me finish and then been dramatic, you know?” you sighed, easing back from intensity when something of amusement softened his face.

“At least for today,” he purred your name, “your world _will_ revolve around me.”

“And why is th- _oh_ ,” the Force nudged your bud, laved at it just as his tongue might.

He leaned down one last time, lips to your ear. “Because you’re not cumming until I let you, and you have a twelve-hour orientation shift to look forward to today.” An icy thrill swept your veins when he promised, “I intend to make each one of those hours memorable.”

“You won’t be anywhere near me.”

“As I’ve found recently,” his hand teased along your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting the very tip of your nipple. When you shuddered, he hummed, “distance is no longer a barrier.”

Even through the haze of lust, there was no hiding the contempt in your voice when you barked, “And you figured that out how? Through training? While you’re still healing from not even two weeks ago?”

Kylo did not say anything, instead leaning back and letting you out from under him. He was still hard, but you had no time or want to care about that fact. Kylo watched as you stormed from the canopy and gathered your clothes from the refresher, nearly stomping. Through the gossamer fabric, you saw he was amused with you, and when you pulled on yesterday’s uniform to make the short distance to your room, he stood from the bed and sauntered toward you.

“Didn’t Belkar give you orders to not strain yourself for at least a month?” Your arms were crossed to your chest, your remaining belongings tucked beneath them. “You know, you aren’t invincible. You have to know that by now, right? Because I sure as hell do.” The image of his comatose form slithered in and out of memory. You shuddered. “Can’t you just do what’s good for yourself? This once?”

He took the step up from the bed’s level, the heightening sun glowing behind him, crowding the pale blue of the sky with every step that brought him closer. Lazily, like you weren’t lecturing him, he ran the flat of his fingers along his shaft, cocking his head when he stopped a pace away from you.

“Why would I listen to his orders?”

“Okay, then it’s _my_ order,” you said, “because if you want to be stubborn, fine. But if _I need you_ , then I need you at your best, not hurt and half-healed because your skull is too thick and your ego is too big to process that no matter if you _are_ Kylo Ren, you are still human. And I am your care provider. And… I… say so.”

His lips twitched. “ _You_ say so?”

Although you barely believed the authority in your tone, you held steady, “Yes, Commander Ren, _I_ say so.”

He’d never looked at you quite like he was now, something of stunned pride gleaming behind a much more fortified front of command. Closing the space between you, your back meeting the chilled black of the door, Kylo leaned down and studied your crossed arms. Knowing mischief flashed in them before he sought your gaze and met you with a face full of challenge.

“First,” he rumbled, his breath on your lips, “address me by my name or my title, not that rank. Ever again. Understood?”

Eyes on his plush, dawn-kissed mouth. “Yes. Second?”

“Second,” tongue in cheek, the hand he’d busied with his erection came up and plucked an article from your arms. It was only after his face became the youngest you’d seen it – taunting eyes and a broad, pompous smile – when you realized what hung from the tip of his forefinger. “I suppose mine might be more comfortable than your own?”

Your mouth fell open – in horror or at his audacity, you did not know. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, waiting for you to squirm as you viewed his boxer-briefs just inches from your face. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“They are, actually. So, if you don’t mind—” you plucked them from his grasp, not breaking his stare for a second “—I’ll take these.” He only looked between your eyes, his own glinting with amusement. “And here—” you balled up your own panties and clasped your hand to his, tucking both to his chest and smiling sweetly “—if I’ve put you out too many pairs.”

A few seconds passed where all you did was take victory in the stunned setting of his features, and when you reached to activate the door, he caught your hand and pressed a long, hard, lusting kiss to your mouth. When he finished, both of you panting, he circled a canine with the tip of his tongue and took a step back.

“Good luck today,” the door shot open and your heart thrummed at the whoosh of ice over your back. With the tone of his next words – slithering, toying, smug – and remembering his promise to make the hours _memorable_ , you knew he meant nothing to do with your occupation when he said, “you’ll need it.”

Sighing, you stepped into the vacant landing, and shot him one final smirk. “I have my watch if you need me,” you swept your gaze over his bare, muscled body, “if you want me.” No matter if you’d meant to, you’d initiated a game, and for the first time in so long, you were excited to play.

In the few steps from his room to your own, you waited for the gentle lock that indicated the door’s close, but it never came. For a second, you wondered if it had shut and you just did not hear it, but you felt those dark, peering eyes and knew his gaze was following your every move. So when you activated your door, took one step past the threshold, you pulled the skirt of your uniform over your head and stretched your arms above, your bare back arched and ass on display.

In a marked taunt, you purred, “Think of me fondly in my absence, Master Ren.”

You did not wait for a response before activating the door to shut, but one still came in the form of an overwhelming, buzzing pulse between your legs. A high-pitched mewl accompanied your trip forward, yipping until ten endless seconds passed and the pleasure thrumming along your slit subsided.

_Game on_.

* * *

With a fresh uniform, and Kylo’s briefs hugging your curves, you strode through the manor – although, you were still unsure what to call this place – and meandered your way around until you found a kitchen. Some of the staff acknowledged you with a small nod, others too busy cutting exotic fruits and preparing for breakfast. Which, passing by two intricately stacked and arranged platters, you knew most of the food being prepared would just as quickly be disposed of.

A woman in a black uniform guided you out of the bustling kitchen, taking you to a dining room. In it was a long table, undoubtedly used for meetings and manipulation, filled with trays of meats and fruits and carafes of juices, a metal one indicative of milk or cream. A large, insulated pot with a gilded, floral handle, steamed at the far end of the table. _Caffeine_.

There was limited time to eat, only about thirty minutes before the transport arrive, so you took a plate, painted too intricately with the flowers you’d walked through last night, and gathered whatever sustenance might help you make it to lunch. Most importantly, you filled a delicate mug with piping hot caf and carried everything into an adjoining room.

No lights were on, only the rising dawn filtering through thin veils of curtains, and Talia sat at the very end of the otherwise empty, centered table. She was dressed, but looked disheveled, at least for her typical put-together appearance. She wasn’t working alongside you, you knew – your assignment at Canto Bight’s medbay purely aimed at incriminating you – but it was still nice to have a friend, one who was under the same roof and not acting strangely.

Her hands were clamped onto either side of her head and there was a plate of picked-at food pushed to the side, a glass of water placed before her sunken head.

“Hey, Tal,” you started, noting her subtle jump at your voice. When she gave a subtle wave, you took a seat next to her and asked, however redundant, “How’re you feeling this morning?”

A long sigh, fingers comforting her temples. “Do I look that bad?”

A pause, considering. She looked quite pale, but there was no sheen of sweat over her forehead. She was breathing a bit quickly, and her mouth appeared to be parted, like she could be sick at any second. “Well, you’ve looked better, but I’ve seen you at your worst.” A look around the room, tuning your ears to the clang of the kitchen. “Is it nausea?” you whispered.

“Stars,” she winced, more in theatrics than pain, “I’ve spent more time over a toilet than anywhere else since the beginning of this thing.”

You chewed at a fruit you’d never had before, swallowing before saying, “Is it just in the morning or is it all day?”

“Morning sickness is a cruel lie they tell unsuspecting women,” she cleared her throat, finally peering up to you. “At least that’s what I have concluded.”

“Did you sleep last night?” There were purple splotches under her reddened eyes.

A shy smile slipped onto her face, quickly faltering. “I could have gotten more.”

Your brows raised, realizing Talia had a similar night to your own. “Oh?” you hummed.

“A private half of this villa?” she lowered her voice, swallowing, looking to the arch that peered out of the room, “and then adjoined rooms? It’s like they _want_ us to have affairs with our assignments.”

“Well,” you sighed, recounting your night and morning, “perhaps. If that’s the case, can I assume _where_ you slept last night?”

She loosed a breath of amusement. “Shockingly, no.” She shook her head, closing her eyes again before explaining, “I haven’t told him. Yet. Still. I stayed with him until he fell asleep but made it back to my room before I could hurl up everything I’d eaten yesterday.” A small, bitter laugh. “Do you know how impossible it is to throw up quietly?”

A warm sip of caf and you tapped her wrist, earning her attention back. Eyes filled with concern, you asked, quieter than the distant shore, “Are you afraid to tell him?”

“I’ve tried,” she sighed, completely exasperated, “This past week I have had so many opportunities – traveling here, the last few days on the Finalizer… last night.” Talia ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “I want to tell him. I _need_ to, if I’m being honest. Time sensitive issue and everything.”

“Has he suspected anything, or do you know?”

A gloom shrunk her features, her focus shifting to the window behind your shoulder. “I think that’s why I haven’t told him. Armitage is always busy, running off to this place and that. I love the time I spend with him, I do. But, his lifestyle isn’t necessarily… compatible, I guess. Not with a baby. Not with, not with a partner. Not with me.”

“Oh, Talia.”

“No, I’m okay,” she shrugged, sad eyes going back to her glass, “I think I’m just biding my time. Preparing for the worst.”

“And what would _the worst_ be, here?”

The room went silent, still, a few staff members replacing what you’d picked from the trays. For a few minutes there was only the sound of far-away waves and the kitchen’s relentless clattering, but Talia cleared the silence with a drag of breath. “The worst would be me telling him, him not wanting anything to do with me or my situation, being removed from his service and out of a job, publicly disgraced and shamed for carrying the General’s bastard kid, and just wholly ruined socially, occupationally, and personally.” There was quiet fear clawing at her eyes, but she forced a pleading smile.

“Wow,” you breathed, cutting through the intense moment, “it’s almost like you’ve thought about it before.”

A pitiful laugh. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Well, there’s always the alternative,” you shrugged. “Maybe none of that scary stuff will happen. Maybe Hux will embrace it. Embrace you and your situation. Because it isn’t just _yours_ , Talia,” she considered your next words before you said, “it’s his, too.” You clasped her hand, trying to get across that she could come to you whenever she needed. “When you’re ready, or at least before you’re in labor,” you shared a laugh, “tell him. I think… I think people can surprise you if you let them. Maybe Hux will do just that.”

The pact that bound you seemed to glow, such gratefulness in her expression. She smiled and slipped her hand from yours, sipped from her glass and shook her head. “Well, now that you’ve bandaged _my_ crisis, how are you doing? Only a couple days before everything gets real.”

Though you knew it was true, you’d barely considered the trial. Aside from Karmen’s rundown yesterday, you’d spent most of your time preparing for your shift, worrying about Mason, and cooped up with Kylo Ren. So maybe it would all feel real when you got there, but as of right now you’d scarcely thought of it.

“I think I’m doing better than I should be,” you sighed, nibbling a piece of toast. “Like you said, this place is rather extravagant, and then this whole city is unbelievable. I don’t know, maybe I’m just avoiding thinking about it. And, like you, I’m preparing for the worst.”

A glum smile hardly met her eyes. “Your worst is _far_ worse than mine. I can’t even imagine.”

“You and Mason both, I guess. Although, you’re not as cryptic with it as he’s been.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She notched a brow.

You breathed a giggle, remembering you needed to clarify, “Just trouble, no paradise. Mason and I aren’t together.”

Talia was completely taken aback, no hiding her shocked expression. “Oh. I mean, I just assumed… Are you _sure_? Does _he_ know you aren’t together?”

“I’d assume so,” her tone made you wary, not sure what was so obvious.

“I’m sorry, I really just thought since seeing him in the medbay so often that you two were a thing. Like, a _serious_ thing.”

“We’re not,” your tone was short, but you breathed before saying, “I’m seeing him tomorrow. I need- _ah, ah, fu-_ ,”

That buzzing Force claimed your cunt, drilling both sweet spots and making it impossible to breathe. After a few seconds, its presence – its _master_ – merciless, you crossed your legs and knitted your hands together in your lap, coughing to try and hide the sensation’s vision-blurring effects.

Talia was stunned, but before she could ask, you continued, “I’m see-seeing Mason tomorr-ow, and _ha_! Wow, and,” it felt like Kylo was thrusting inside of you, your toes curled in your shoes. “And grabbing some clothes for the trial. He also said he wants to ta- _oh_ , okay.” You stomped both your feet to the floor, leaning down to the table and chugging the rest of your coffee.

“Are you alright?” Talia leaned forward, but you waved a hand in dismissal.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. So clothes and then Mason wants to _talk_!” You stumbled away from her and tried to keep from cursing Kylo Ren outwardly, a few shouts of goodbye falling behind when you eventually got out into the main halls of the manor.

The pulse between your legs finally let up, and you had half a mind to tromp back to his room and knee him where it’d hurt, but there were five minutes before transport would arrive, so you decided it would need to wait for a later date.

“If you can hear this,” you hissed, searching the halls for onlookers, “I’m going to-,” a swirl of pressure laved your sensitive bud, sending you tripping into the foyer. “ _Kylo_.” It let up again. _He_ let up. Maybe you would have tried another retort, but the grand entrance slid open, and at the bottom of the dawn-draped stairs awaited CB-7070.

She had a hand clasped to her wrist, not a blaster in sight, and her face remained hidden by a white helmet. The gold band over her right wrist shimmering with the sliver of sunlight to your left. Consciously, you half-circled her, wariness creeping along your veins. Nothing she had done, but… for a second you dropped your eyes to that familiar break in her uniform. You swallowed when you looked back to her visor, not offering a smile, and keeping at least three paces away at all times.

“Morning,” she muffled out your last name, pivoting to face you. When she took a step forward, you tried not to, but you backed away in suit. She stopped her advance.

Without a word, you nodded, pushing your hands into your pockets.

CB-7070 cleared her throat. “I’ve been informed by Commander Ren that you can assign me a name if you choose.”

“No,” you said, too quickly. “No, that won’t be necessary. CB-7070 is fine. We won’t know each other long.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Use my first name,” you commanded, running a finger along your uniform’s embroidery.

“Understood,” this time she used your own name – no titles, no pleasantries.

With only two minutes before transport, you said, “You’re aware you will not be in any of my patients’ rooms, correct?”

“I have been briefed on Cantonica’s privacy laws, yes.”

You peered side-long at her. “Good.”

When she spoke your name, there was a measure of nerves you couldn’t help but notice. “Is there anything you need from me that will make this arrangement easier for you?”

There was little time to think, but something in your head was _screaming_ to request the one thing you felt would minimize the pit of dread rooting in your gut.

Plainly, facing her, arms crossed, you said, “Show me your face.”

Without hesitation, the stormtrooper unlatched and removed her helmet. She was dark-skinned, full lips and deep brown eyes inherent of the desert around her, genetic protection from the lifelong sun on this planet. Dark brunette curls were smoothed to her scalp, twisted into a tight bun at its base. Her face was round, and with the slight smile she gave, her cheeks crinkled a pair of gentle eyes. So young. Too young.

“How old are you?” There was a harshness in your words, not entirely intentional.

CB-7070 did pause at that. After squaring her shoulders she said, “Eighteen. Nineteen soon.” Her voice was kind, warm.

“I don’t need you to prove yourself,” you guessed as much at her posture, “I can assume if you’re here, at this… place-,”

“The Consulate.”

_Consulate_. “Thank you,” you continued. “Since you’re stationed at the Consulate, I can assume you’ve already done enough grunt work,” those early weeks, before Kylo Ren, flashed in your mind’s eye, dehydrated soldiers, strung out in preparation for the attack on the Republic. Sighing, watching the sky for any incoming ships, you took one step toward her. “No, I don’t need you to prove yourself. But I do need you to have my back.”

She stood even straighter at that.

“I know you’re assigned to watch me and report to the General, and I’ll just say right now that neither of us is the other’s favorite person. But I am not your enemy. I’m not _an_ enemy.”

She looked at you, hearing the approaching ship, and just before it sped too close to blast your hearing, the young Stormtrooper nodded and said, “I was briefed on your case. You are not an enemy. You saved that man, an engineer. One of many who normally go unseen and unnoticed. I will do my job, but I am not biased to you or my General.” She angled her eyes to the sky and tucked her head back into the helmet. “As much as my assignment is to monitor you, I have been trained to protect the officers and officials of the First Order. And given you kept the Commander alive after Starkiller went down – you are one of the most important officers I’ve been tasked with.”

You hadn’t known that was general knowledge, her admission striking through every chamber of your heart. The memory of that day. People had seen such a different side of it, they’d seen you protect and serve when minutes prior you were begging for death in the dark of your residence. The day you could have used a savior, others had painted you as their own.

CB-7070 marched to the transport’s descended ramp and faced you. “Ready when you are.”

With a straight back, hands smoothing over your uniform, you approached the ramp, waiting for CB-7070 to follow behind. She stood next to you, but before you took a step further, you turned to the Consulate, and then to the sea that spanned beside and behind it, and you quieted all that Canto Bight had already presented.

Today was not about Snoke, or Mason, or Kylo. Today was about you and your patients, whoever they would be. Today you were not Commander Ren’s Care Provider.

Today you would be a nurse, and that meant more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Not me posting a chapter a chapter after only two weeks. Nuts, really. As of now, this semester is much less of... it's just less fucking nonsense, if I am being honest. I am getting very excited about my future and where I will be this time next year. I have an interview on February 27th for a new-grad RN residency program. It's all just very strange and adult right now.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE tell me what you think and tell me what your theories are. Love you all and hope you have a wonderful rest of your Valentine's Day.
> 
> \- ST

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Where the Body Burns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492669) by [ElmiDol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol)
  * [Of All Evil I Deem You Capable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847491) by [clumsycopy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsycopy/pseuds/clumsycopy)




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